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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156386">Sunlight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinstan/pseuds/marinstan'>marinstan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Harry Potter, Fluff, Harry Potter owns a sweet shop, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past sexual child abuse, Rimming, Top Draco Malfoy, Trust Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:40:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinstan/pseuds/marinstan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Gryffindors are too bruised to take a leap of faith and Slytherins too in love not to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>601</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sunlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is definitely angsty and a bit dark, but it's not explicit in terms of the past abuse.<br/>I think the fluff to angst ratio is pretty balanced.</p><p>Happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Harry Potter quits the Aurorforce and opens a sweet shop in Diagon Alley, the Minister for Magic feels obliged to hold a short, but intense speech on the great loss the DMLE – and basically the whole wizarding world – has suffered and how they will soldier through these difficult times. Nonetheless, he wishes Harry the best of luck.</p><p>Most people believe Harry only works the cash register for the shop's publicity (as if that was necessary – in less than a week, ninety percent of wizarding Britain has visited Harry's shop at least once), but they are wrong.</p><p>Harry runs the shop, but he doesn't know how to make sweets. Which is fine by him – he's never been a baker or much into cooking either. He gladly gives Lavender and Raymond free reign when it comes to creating the heavenly sweets that soon render the business's fame valid. He even allows them to pick new employees – after he's run a thourough background check on them.</p><p>At first, most people merely visit for an autograph, a quick conversation, a sneak peak of the famous Harry Potter. After a month of Harry systematically kicking those people out and banning them from his property if they try a second time, things quiet down a bit.</p><p>Soon, the majority of his customers really comes here for the sweets.</p><p>He knows it might be a bit pathetic, but Harry is prouder than he's been in a long time.</p><p>„Man, I love it here,“ Ron says every time he stops by. More often than not with Kalea on his arm.</p><p>They've been together for almost two years now and Harry knows that they are talking about children. He tries not to freak out about it.</p><p>They're twenty-five, afterall. Talking about children is a legitimate thing to do.</p><p>„Do you have one of your pepper-up drops for me, Harry?“ Hermione says every time she stops by. More often than not, alone.</p><p>Hermione hasn't had a relationship since Ron. Sometimes she's dating, sometimes she's not. Harry knows how busy she is – busier than anyone else he knows. When Hermione says she doesn't have the time (or the energy) to date right now, it's the naked truth.</p><p>Harry is pretty sure she'll be the next Minister for Magic. She's already broken records by becoming the youngerst Unspeakable the Ministry has ever appointed.</p><p> </p><p>It's pouring outside, golden October fading into a grey November. Harry is tugging the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his wrists and wonders if he should close the shop early today. No one will come by in this downpour anyway.</p><p>That is precisely when the door opens with the familiar tingle.</p><p>Harry notices the hair first. It's very very blond.</p><p>A pale hand disappears into a black coat. A wand is put away, probably because inside Harry's shop, Draco Malfoy doesn't need an umbrella charm any longer.</p><p>„You,“ Harry says.</p><p>Every wizard in London has visited Harry's shop by now.</p><p>Only Draco stayed away.</p><p>Harry isn't sure why.</p><p>After the trials, Harry returned Draco's wand and they talked for a bit. Apologies were said and more or less accepted.</p><p>They didn't see each other while Draco was on probation, living at the Manor with his mother, his father perishing in Azkaban. But when Harry joined the Aurors, their paths crossed again. For a while, they'd see each other at the Ministry. Draco worked some low level administration job.</p><p>Whenever they bumped into each other in the hallway, they'd always stop and exchange a couple words. Harry was thankful for anyone not drooling at the sight of him.</p><p>Not trying to impress him and manipulate him and fawn lust thirst over him.</p><p>Some days, they'd eat lunch together. Harry remembers watching Draco cut up steak and fish and grilled cheese with sure movements. He remembers the way Draco would always manage to put food into his mouth, chew with his lips closed, and then continue drawling in his posh accent.</p><p>Harry felt self-conscious next to him. With the Weasleys, he didn't notice so much how bad his table manners actually are, but compared to Draco, Harry felt like an utter heathen.</p><p>It is embarrassing to think it now, but... Harry thought they were friends.</p><p>Until Draco quit, completely out of the blue, and never set foot into the Ministry again.</p><p>Harry knows that the Slytherin is now working for a literary agency (a quite successful one, if Hermione is to be trusted, and Hermione is always to be trusted, even when it's not about books, but <em>especially </em>when it's about books).</p><p>Draco has never once talked to Harry or wrote to him or anything since he left the Ministry.</p><p>Harry has wondered why way, way too often.</p><p>It's been two years since Harry last saw him. Draco's hair is a little longer now. A bit less severe. There are the finest of lines around his eyes, hardly visible unless you'd get really close. But Harry notices them, because – because he used to have lunch with Draco and sit across from him and look at his face. They sometimes sat there for an hour or more.</p><p>„It's raining,“ Draco says.</p><p>Harry blinks at him. Draco never usually states the obvious. That's always Harry's job.</p><p>Adjusting the collar of his coat, Draco saunters up and down the aisles. He slows at the section with the chocolates.</p><p>Harry knows Draco loves chocolate. Especially dark chocolate.</p><p>„Nice selection,“ the blond remarks, inspecting the shelf.</p><p>Harry has no idea what to say. How to act.</p><p>„Thanks.“</p><p>Taking a bar of chocolate coated orange sticks, Draco turns around. Only halfway. Only so he can throw a glance at Harry over his shoulder.</p><p>„I thought you were mad when I heard you hired the Brown girl. She's one of the most annoying people on this earth.“</p><p>Harry frowns and slowly steps around the counter. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, he says: „She's not sixteen anymore.“</p><p>„You don't say.“</p><p>Draco comes closer. He puts the orange sticks on the counter.</p><p>„I mean she isn't as annoying anymore. And she's very good at making sweets.“ Harry takes a look at Draco's choice. „That's two sickles.“</p><p>There is a small cut on Draco's sharp jaw. Probably flinched while shaving. Harry has never really trusted shaving charms.</p><p>Not that he necessarily needs them. He still can't grow a beard. All he gets is a bit of pathetic fluff on his upper lip and chin. <em>Makes you look like a goat</em>, Ron once observed.</p><p>„I'll be the judge of that,“ Draco says and he doesn't smile, but he's making that face when he'd like to smile but chooses not to. He hands Harry the coins. They're cool in Harry's palm.</p><p>„Well, seems like the rainfall isn't as strong anymore,“ Draco says.</p><p>Harry isn't sure he can say he agrees. To him, it looks exactly the same as it did five minutes ago.</p><p>He wants to ask Draco why he cut him off. If Harry had been delusional for thinking they were something like friends.</p><p>Not close friends, obviously. They had never met outside of work.</p><p>But they did spend every lunch together. In the end, a few weeks before Draco left.</p><p>Harry doesn't ask. He knows by now that it always only makes things worse.</p><p>He doesn't want to hear Draco tell him that Harry's crazy, that they were never friends. That Draco hasn't thought of him once in all this time.</p><p>„Okay,“ Harry says. „Get home safe.“</p><p>He feels stupid for saying it. As if Draco was somehow vulnerable.</p><p>Maybe he used to be as a teenager, but then again, all teenagers are, and Draco is a man now. He's not vulnerable.</p><p>Grey eyes, eyes that have always reminded Harry of frozen lakes look at him. He has to fight a blush.</p><p>It has nothing to do with Draco – Harry's always had problems with direct eye contact. Only Ron and Hermione don't make him uncomfortable.</p><p>„How's Dave?“ Draco asks.</p><p>It's so sudden that Harry needs a moment to realize who Draco is talking about.</p><p>Dave is the bloke Harry had been dating when Draco and he started getting lunch together. With five months, it has been his longest relationship.</p><p>„Oh. I don't – I don't know. We haven't talked in forever.“</p><p>Draco looks whiter than white in this light. Harry has always been amazed by the amount of veins visible under Draco's skin.</p><p>„I see.“</p><p>Harry says nothing. He's still busy looking at Draco.</p><p>Even at his lowest, working a job he hated, Draco has always looked expensive. Harry thinks he can't help but be.</p><p>Now though, Draco's clothes match his attitude. Harry doesn't know much about fashion or brands, but Lavender <em>is </em>his coworker and he knows enough to recognize fifty Galleons shoes when he sees them.</p><p>Either the Ministry has reopened the Malfoy vault or Draco is making money with his new job.</p><p>Harry is rather sure the latter is true.</p><p>„Have a good evening,“ Draco says, slipping the orange sticks into his pocket.</p><p>Harry's throat tightens when he realizes that's it. He nods.</p><p>„You too.“</p><p>Draco holds his gaze for a moment longer, then turns around and briskly walks out of the shop.</p><p>Only when he's gone, Harry realizes he completely forgot to offer Draco a taste of the chocolate truffles set up on the counter.</p><p> </p><p>What Harry likes most about his job is making children's eyes light up. He knows – or, at least has a vague idea – that this might have (definitely, definitely has) something to do with the fact that, when he was a kid, his eyes rarely lit up. No one ever bothered to make them.</p><p>It's a bit stuffy in the sweet shop today, because rainy clouds are stuck over London. It's been wet and cold and disgusting outside for a week now and many people take refuge in Harry's sanctuary.</p><p>He'd never tell anyone, but that's how he feels about this shop. It's a milestone, a safe haven and validation all in once. It marks the first time he really put his foot down and did something selfish.</p><p>Hermione says there's not much selfish about opening a shop because one enjoys making people happy, but Harry knows that's not true. The DMLE, the whole Ministry, everyone was devastated when he left. He failed to fullfil his duty, but – Harry is so tired of doing what's expected of him.</p><p>Perhaps he owes it to the people, but he really thinks he doesn't. He has already sacrificed <em>everything </em>for them – his childhood, his sanity, his <em>life –</em> and enough is enough.</p><p>Working as an Auror, Harry couldn't sleep. And when he did, he – Well.</p><p>He was always cold and Ron took it on to give him that particular concerned look. <em>Mate, are you alright? </em>He'd ask on the daily.</p><p>During his time working for the DMLE, Harry fucked (got fucked, to be specific) by a different bloke every weekend. He knows Hermione was <em>this</em> close to force him to go to a therapist. And since she knew he wouldn't unless she truly <em>forced </em>him, that meant either therapy for him or losing Hermione as a friend. <em>I can't do this anymore, </em>she'd say every Sunday.</p><p>Leaving the force was a clean cut for Harry. It was his attempt at getting his life – not together, no. But <em>having </em>one. Having his own life where he made the rules. Or at least some of them.</p><p>It worked better than he thought it would.</p><p>Since he's got the shop (almost two years now, if not entirely) he never goes out alone anymore. He works nine to fine and when he's free, he either spends his time reading or renovating the house or hanging out with his friends. Not that he has many, but the ones he does have, he greatly appreciates.</p><p>Would Harry say he's happy now? He's not sure. He doesn't feel happy.</p><p>But he also doesn't feel depressed anymore. He gets out of bed, he usually eats and sleeps okay. Compared to the situation back then, that's heaven.</p><p>„Are those vegan?“ a witch asks, holding up a bag of gummy bears that hum annoyedly at being handled so roughly.</p><p>„No, but the ones on the right aisle are,“ Harry says and then the witch asks something else, but Harry can't hear her, because Draco just walked into the shop.</p><p>„Excuse me,“ Harry says and leaves the witch where she is, mistreating his poor bears.</p><p>Draco is wearing his fancy coat again, but no trousers today. The jeans are light grey and hug his legs. They look very soft.</p><p>„Hi,“ Harry says. He's painfully aware of how absolutely unfashionable he looks compared to Draco. It never really bothered him before, but it does now.</p><p>„Potter,“ Draco says lightly. Harry doesn't like it.</p><p>They used to be on a first name basis.</p><p>„Can I help you with something?“ Harry asks, as if he'd jump every customer walking through his door like that. Before Draco can answer, Harry remembers his omission from the last time Draco was here and adds: „Would you like to try a truffle?“</p><p>Draco is taller than Harry. He blinks down at the Gryffindor. A smile is ghosting over his pale lips.</p><p>Harry blushes. He tends to either not say anything at all or say too much at once.</p><p>Words aren't really his thing.</p><p>„Sure, why not?“</p><p>Harry prays he won't drop the glass as he summons it, catches it out of the air.</p><p>He doesn't drop it, but it takes him two tries to get a truffle out with his little pincers. His hand is shaking a bit.</p><p>„Thank you,“ Draco says.</p><p>As he got older, Draco got polite. Or maybe he's always been and Harry just never noticed.</p><p>Maybe the only thing that's changed is that Draco is being polite to <em>Harry </em>now.</p><p>Harry can't understand why he'd prefer if he wasn't.</p><p>He watches Draco chew.</p><p>„That's very good,“ Draco says.</p><p>Harry smiles. „I'll tell Raymon. He made them.“</p><p>Draco nods and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, the vegan witch is back, clearly pissed now.</p><p>Harry has no other choice but walk her through the vegan options his shop offers, one by one, until she finally strolls off.</p><p>She leaves the shop without buying anything.</p><p>Draco's eyes follow her, narrowed. He makes that hissing sound, just air pressed through his front teeth, he always makes when someone or something pisses him off.</p><p>„What did you want to say?“ Harry asks him.</p><p>Grey eyes snap back to him. Draco rearranges his scarf.</p><p>„I was wondering if you'd like to get a drink sometimes,“ Draco asks.</p><p>Harry is sure you heard him wrong.</p><p>„A drink.“</p><p>„Yes.“</p><p>Harry's brows furrow. Draco doesn't blink, but Harry still thinks he's nervous.</p><p>„You don't text, you never call and now. You – I.“</p><p>Draco's mouth twitches. „Yes, you and I. A drink. What do you say?“</p><p>It's so strange. They've never had a drink together. It was not something they'd do.</p><p>Harry doesn't know what to think of it.</p><p>„When?“ he asks.</p><p>Draco smiles, triumphant. Harry isn't sure he likes that, even though – even though.</p><p>„I'll pick you up when your shift is over.“</p><p> </p><p>Draco takes them to a fancy bar Harry has never been to before.</p><p>They have a drink. Then another one.</p><p>Draco tells him about his job and Harry soaks it up. It doesn't sound like anything he'd ever want to do for a living, but he is sure Draco excells in it.</p><p>When Draco asks Harry about the shop, Harry allows excitement to tinge his voice.</p><p>„I knew it would be good for you to leave the Aurorforce,“ Draco says, draining his whiskey sour.</p><p>Harry looks at him, eyes wide. „Seriously?“</p><p>Draco smiles. He puts his hand on Harry's. It's cool and a bit wet from the condensation on his glass. Harry's heartrate is spiking. It's almost painful.</p><p>„Yes. You were wasting away in there. Everyone with eyes could see it.“</p><p>Of course, Draco is completely right.</p><p>His fingers climb up Harry's wrist, stroking the skin. Harry feels his lips parting. Feels himself lean in.</p><p>He didn't expect the evening to go like this. But he can't say he minds. No, not all.</p><p>It's been a long time since he felt like this.</p><p>Since Draco left, if he's honest.</p><p>„What's that?“ Draco asks. His free hand cups Harry's face as if it was easy. His thumb strokes over a tiny scar on his cheekbone.</p><p>„Nothing,“ Harry says, no air in his lungs.</p><p>Draco scoots closer and kisses him.</p><p>Harry's eyes fall shut. He doesn't have to think about it. He isn't thinking at all when Draco's lips move against his.</p><p>The kiss is unhurried. Not like the kisses Harry is used to.</p><p>It reminds him of the few kisses he and Ginny shared before he realized he was gay. But, really, it's nothing like those kisses.</p><p>Draco pulls back and Harry doesn't want him to. Grey eyes are darker now.</p><p>Up close like this, Draco is gorgeous. Harry knows, <em>knows </em>Draco isn't a beautiful man. Maybe handsome, but never beautiful.</p><p>But now that Harry could count his lashes, can see every little blemish on Draco's pale skin and Draco's features are blurring, he is striking.</p><p>„I've wanted to do this for a really long time,“ Draco says, thumb stroking Harry's cheek.</p><p>Harry puts his mouth on Draco's again, his arms wrapping around the Slytherin's neck.</p><p>This kiss is more urgent. When Draco's tongue slips into Harry's mouth, Harry moans. He's never done that before. But Draco's tongue is in his mouth and Harry is hot, hot all over.</p><p> </p><p>They end up in the loo and it's not how Harry would have preferred it, but he wants it too much to wait or to complain.</p><p>„Salazar,“ Draco breathes, leaning with his back against the closed door, pulling Harry in. He kisses Harry's neck and Harry makes keening, breathless sounds he's ashamed of, but he can't help it.</p><p>He fumbles Draco's fly open. Slips his hand into the Slytherin's pants.</p><p>Draco is hard and silky-smooth. Harry almost passes out when Draco pushes his pants down his thighs and Harry can see.</p><p>He's perfect. Big, but not intimidatingly so, flushed and stiff and – and Harry wants to taste him.</p><p>Two years of celibacy, of taking care of himself, are sent flying out of the window as Harry sinks to his knees and takes Draco's cock into his mouth.</p><p>But this is different, he tells himself and believes it.</p><p>Draco's hands are in his hair and Harry moans around the cock gagging him.</p><p>Harry knows he gives decent blow jobs, but he's not amazing. Deep throating is difficult for him – his gag reflex too strong.</p><p>Right now, the fear of not being good for Draco, of Draco not being into it, into him, of Harry being unable to make Draco come, pulses bright in his chest, even making his erection flag a little.</p><p>He puts his all into it, one hand on Draco's thigh, pale and strong and covered with fine blond hairs.</p><p>„Look at you.“ Draco's voice is hoarse.</p><p>Harry opens his eyes.</p><p>Draco is watching him. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes dark.</p><p>„Look at you,“ he whispers again.</p><p>A white-hot arrow of arousel shoots through Harry, his cock pulling up hard. He starts sucking again.</p><p>Two minutes later, Draco comes down Harry's throat and Harry tries to swallow all of it. A bit leaks out, over his chin and lips.</p><p>Draco pulls him up, hands shaky. Harry's heart is fluttering in his chest.</p><p>The gaze Draco regards him with is so intense that Harry has trouble holding it. Elegant, pale fingers wipe the cum off Harry's face.</p><p>Harry whimpers. He presses his erection against Draco's thigh.</p><p>Draco's arms encircle Harry. They tighten, pulling him against Draco's hard body.</p><p>Harry feels his breath when Draco whispers into his ear: „I want to fuck you. Can I?“</p><p>Harry is beyond words. All he can do is nod feverishly.</p><p>They stumble out of the stall. Draco wards the door and cleans the floor, if only rough and ready.</p><p>Harry is shaking when he finds himself on his back, bare from the waist down. Draco kisses him.</p><p>„Don't be scared,“ he says. „I'll take care of you.“</p><p>When Draco enters Harry, he is careful. He is more careful than Harry thought Draco Malfoy was capable of being – more careful than anyone has ever been with Harry's body.</p><p>It's what makes Harry bloom open in a way he never has before.</p><p>Their pants fill the room when Draco starts moving, little thrusts that first increase, then transform the sharp burn into raw pleasure.</p><p>Draco kisses him possessively while moving inside Harry and all Harry can do is hold on for dear life and moan into Draco's mouth.</p><p>It's over too soon. Harry has gone without this for too long and when Draco hits the spot dead on, Harry comes. He comes breathing Draco's name and Draco is watching him as he does.</p><p>When Harry's body is loose and he's floating away, Draco asks: „Can I...?“</p><p>His voice is wrecked. Harry looks up at him and nods, letting his knees fall to the sides, opening himself up.</p><p>Draco looses himself, his thrusts erratic. He comes deep inside Harry and Harry knows for sure that no man comes more beautifully than Draco.</p><p>When Draco pulls out, Harry feels empty. Cum is running down his thighs.</p><p>Draco murmurs a cleaning spell, then gets up. Holds out his hand and pulls Harry up with him.</p><p>Harry's heart is beating way too fast. His arse aches and he can't tear his eyes away from Draco's face.</p><p>The Slytherin smiles, sweat making his skin glow. He pulls Harry in and kisses him.</p><p>Says: „No fantasy compares to you.“</p><p>Harry smiles. „You could have said something sooner.“</p><p>Draco turns around, pulling on Harry's hand. „There is a line in front of the loo.“</p><p>People are staring as they leave the loo and it's embarrassing, but Harry doesn't care.</p><p>In front of the bar, Draco kisses him. „Thank you,“ he says and Harry thinks that is an odd thing to say, but it's fine.</p><p>„See you,“ he says and then they both apparate home.</p><p> </p><p>When Draco doesn't call the next day, Harry knows.</p><p>He can't admit it to himself until a week has passed.</p><p>Friday after work is when he finally has the breakdown that has been building since Draco took him on a perfunctiorily cleaned bathroom floor.</p><p>Alone in his living room, Harry starts hyperventilating. He falls to his knees, gasping for air, but it won't reach his lungs.</p><p><em>It's okay</em>, he tries to tell himself. Draco and he were nothing.</p><p>He should've known that it was just a fuck to Draco. It shouldn't matter.</p><p>But with piercing clarity, Harry realizes that it was <em>not </em>just a fuck to him. And, worse, he really believed it wasn't to Draco, either.</p><p>Now, everything appears in a new light.</p><p>Maybe this is what Draco wanted all that time. Apparently, Harry has once again been nothing more than an itch that needed to be scratched.</p><p><em>At least he actually wanted </em>you<em>, </em>he tries to console himself. He wasn't just some random twink at a bar, wasn't just one of a thousand.</p><p>Draco did want to fuck him.</p><p>Harry throws up. He doesn't know what's wrong – he only knows he'll never  have sex ever again. He's too stupid for it.</p><p>He's tired of people using him.</p><p> </p><p>„Did something happen?“ Hermione asks when they get lunch on Tuesday. Harry says: „No, why are you asking?“ And tries to cut his chicken without trembling.</p><p>Hermione gives him a Look. Says he seems upset.</p><p>„Everything okay?“ Ron asks when he stops by the shop on Wednesday, buying two boxes of sugar quills. Harry smiles and Ron seems even more concerned.</p><p>„Did you do it again?“ Ginny asks when Harry goes flying with her on the weekend. Her short hair is tousled by the wind and she's frowning at him. Harry can't quite meet her gaze. „Harry,“ she says, half pitiful, half mad. „You promised not to.“</p><p>Harry says nothing.</p><p>„Did he hurt you?“ Ginny asks, danger in her voice.</p><p><em>Yes</em>, Harry thinks. More than any other.</p><p>But that's stupid, because Draco had been very gentle, generous even, and Harry doesn't want Ginny to beat him up. At least he thinks so.</p><p>„I was being stupid,“ he says and that's the truth.</p><p> </p><p>The first of December is always a special day to Harry because it's when he decorates his shop and puts up the huge advent calendar. Every day until Christmas Eve, the first child to visit the shop gets to open the little present for free.</p><p>„This looks nice, doesn't it?“ Lavender asks, smiling as she brushes her golden locks out of her face. She's wearing a pink turtle neck jumper that goes surprisingly well with her purple skirt. She spent the last half hour putting up fairy lights in the shop window.</p><p>„Perfect,“ Harry says and tries to feel as cheerful as he usually does on this day. He won't let Draco take it from him.</p><p>„I was thinking I could make some snow rabbits today,“ Raymond suggests, buttoning up his work shirt. His brown skin is dotted with droplets of rain. He just walked in.</p><p>„Sure.“</p><p>His marshmallow snow rabbits always sell. People love them more than chocolate frogs. Some kids don't want to eat them because they're so cute.</p><p>While Lavender and Raymond disappear in the back, Harry makes some last touch ups before settling behind the counter. He pushes a truffle into his mouth and tries to cheer up.</p><p>It's Christmas time. He <em>loves </em>Christmas time.</p><p>The doorbell tingles. He puts on a smile and hopes it's a child. They all love Harry's advent calendar.</p><p>But it's not a child.</p><p>The smile is wiped off Harry's face.</p><p>„Hello, Harry.“ This time, Draco doesn't just stride into the shop as if he was at home here. He sort of lingers at the door.</p><p>The last time Harry saw him was a month ago and he had just been inside of him.</p><p>Harry wishes he could say he had never thought about having sex with Draco before he kissed Harry at that bar, but that's not true. He thought about sleeping with him often. But usually, when Harry thinks he wants to sleep with someone, that means he best stays far away.</p><p>Talk about taking your own advise.</p><p>„Why are you here?“ he asks. His heartbeat is making him sick.</p><p>Harry can't meet Draco's gaze. Shame is pulsing through his body.</p><p>„Why shouldn't I be here?“</p><p>His gaze snaps up. The audacity of that question. It almost makes the shame disappear, drowning in anger.</p><p>Until Harry deflates.</p><p>Because... why shouldn't Draco be here? Why should Harry be mad?</p><p>They fucked. Nothing else. Draco never pretended he wanted more or to date Harry and it's not like Harry said anything, either. He just assumed because they used to be friends... but what does that even mean? Were they even friends?</p><p>Harry has no right to be angry.</p><p>But that doesn't mean he wants Draco in his shop.</p><p>„Are you looking for a present?“ Harry asks cooly.</p><p>Draco swallows. It's not a big gulp or anything, but Harry sees it.</p><p>„Not really,“ Draco answers. „I wanted to talk to you.“</p><p>Harry stays quiet. His hands are shaking.</p><p>„I wondered if maybe you'd like to get another drink sometimes.“</p><p>That's it. Harry's hands grip the edges of the counter.</p><p>„No,“ he says, voice measured, but shaking.</p><p>Draco flinches. His eyes dart over Harry's face. He opens his mouth.</p><p>„Harry, I -“</p><p>„If you're not here to buy something, I need to ask you to leave,“ Harry says. Not looking at Draco.</p><p>There is a long silence.</p><p>Finally, Draco asks: „Are you mad at me?“</p><p>Unbidden, hot tears press against Harry's eye balls. It's been a long time since he felt this stupid.</p><p>„No,“ he says. „Please leave.“</p><p>Draco takes a step toward the counter. Harry backs away.</p><p>„I am not going to have sex with you again,“ he says, not looking into Draco's face.</p><p>Draco stills. „Okay,“ he says.</p><p>Harry stares at his sneakers. They're worn and dirty. He should get new ones.</p><p>„You are mad at me,“ Draco says. His voice doesn't tremble, but he certainly doesn't sound calm. „Why?“</p><p>Harry's eyes flick up.</p><p>He says something he usually only thinks, never voices.</p><p>„Sleeping with you was a mistake.“</p><p>Just like that, Draco's face shutters. His eyes become opaque.</p><p>„Very well,“ he says, briskly turning on his heels.</p><p>Harry stares at his back as Draco walks out of the shop.</p><p> </p><p>Harry can't sleep. It hasn't been this bad since he quit the Aurors.</p><p>Shadows are lurking in the dark. The sheets are suffocating Harry, so he kicks them off, but then he's freezing and vulnerable. Quickly, he pulls the sheets back up. Over his head.</p><p>He hides under them, nearly choking and sweating like a pig, until his alarm rings.</p><p> </p><p>Harry went to a therapist for a couple months when he opened the shop. It was mostly because Hermione basically begged him to, but part of him thought it might be a good idea.</p><p>He still thinks it was, because the therapist – a very nice witch with dark brown skin and bright purple glasses who always wore a ton of bracelets – taught him how to deal with his panic attacks, how to better recognize triggers and destructive coping mechanisms Harry tended to fall into.</p><p>With her help, he managed to stop the habit of letting his body get used and abused by strangers. He got his insomnia under control as far as possible and he learned how to take better care of himself.</p><p>The problem was the talking about his childhood.</p><p>Harry didn't like it. He didn't want it and didn't need it. What happened, happened. He knows the Dursleys fucked him up from the start.</p><p>He doesn't want to keep revisiting that time of his life.</p><p>At first, Iris (his therapist) accepted his wishes. They focused more on the present and, like he said, she really helped him. But after a couple months, she wouldn't stop nagging.</p><p>They talked about the war a bit, which wasn't pleasant, but okay. Harry has talked a lot about the war, with a lot of different people. He feels like he's mostly at peace with what happened. The nightmares won't ever stop completely, he knows that perfectly well.</p><p>But anything before Hogwarts... Harry just doesn't want to get into it.</p><p>„If you refuse to talk about your childhood, Harry, I'm afraid we won't be able to achieve much more than we already have,“ Iris said and that was when Harry stopped coming.</p><p>He wasn't resentful or anything. On the contrary, he was thankful for Iris.</p><p>But he still didn't want to come back.</p><p> </p><p>„Go kill it,“ Harry says, smiling at Ginny. Her muscled torso is swallowed up by a thick Weasley jumper and she's still chewing on one of Lavender's spicy gingerbread men.</p><p>„You know it.“ She winks and hugs him.</p><p>Harry has always loved the way Ginny hugs. Very tight, with both arms. She's shorter than Harry, but not much, her cheek smashing against his.</p><p>She'll be flying with the Harpies over Christmas. Molly threw a fit.</p><p>On her way out of the door, she runs into Draco. Harry sees him before she does, but too late to warn her.</p><p>His reactions are always pretty slow around Draco.</p><p>„Ginevra,“ Harry hears him say, cooly.</p><p>When he walks into the shop, Harry flirts with the thought of hiding under his Invisibility Cloak.</p><p>But he doesn't. He's not that much of a coward.</p><p>„Potter,“ Draco says, breezing through the shop. Picking up some ginger chocolate.</p><p>Harry has a painful déjà-vu of the first time Draco entered his shop.</p><p>„Hi,“ Harry says because he doesn't know what else to say.</p><p>„How is business going?“ Draco asks, weighing the ginger chocolate in one, and some snicker doodles in his other hand.</p><p>„Good,“ Harry says. His mouth is very dry.</p><p>„Brilliant.“ Draco turns to him. „I need a present for my mother. She's rather picky when it comes to sweets.“</p><p>Harry stares at him. „I – okay. What... what does she like?“</p><p>Draco turns back to the shelf, inspecting its contents. „She likes either white or very dark chocolate. Spicy, but not too spicy. Occasionally, she'll have some cookies as well. It depends.“</p><p>Harry nods, walking up next to him, pretending to look at the shelf.</p><p>All he can think is that he had his lips around Draco's penis. His hands on his flat belly.</p><p>„What about this?“ Harry hands him a chocolate bar garnished with dry frosted rose petals.</p><p>Draco turns it in his elegant hands.</p><p>„She might actually like this. At least I know she favours rose fragrances.“</p><p>His fingers brush Harry's as he puts the other chocolate back.</p><p>„<em>Am I hurting you? You're very tight.“</em></p><p>
  <em>A flush all the way down Harry's chest. He looked into Draco's eyes. They were warm and... concerned.</em>
</p><p>„<em>No.“</em></p><p>
  <em>Draco's fingers pushing deeper into his body. Harry gasped and then spread his legs wider, arching his back in a silent plea for more.</em>
</p><p>The look in Draco's eyes makes Harry flinch back.</p><p>„I'm not sleeping with you,“ Harry murmurs, looking at the floor.</p><p>„Yes, so you said.“ Draco's voice is chilly. It changes though when he continues: „That's not why I'm here.“</p><p>Harry keeps looking at the floor.</p><p>He won't believe another word out of Draco's mouth. Men lie. It's all they do.</p><p>„Do you want to get coffee in your lunch break?“ the Slytherin asks, voice even.</p><p>Harry's heart is in his throat. „No, thanks,“ he says.</p><p>Draco nods slowly. Harry has no idea what he's thinking because he isn't looking at Draco.</p><p>„Then I'll just take this chocolate, please.“</p><p> </p><p>The next day, Draco stops by again. With coffee, this time.</p><p>Harry takes it and feels at a loss.</p><p>„Why -“ he begins, but Draco cuts him off, asking something about his sweets. He sweeps through every aisle, talking to Harry across the room and then walks out again.</p><p>But he's back the day after that.</p><p> </p><p>Harry doesn't understand what Draco wants. The Slytherin comes by at least twice, often three times a week. Sometimes he brings coffee.</p><p>At first, they only have small talk. Harry won't say much at all.</p><p>He's too confused and too hurt still.</p><p>It's only on a very slow Friday morning after Christmas (that Harry spent with the Weasleys, trying his very best not to feel lonely), that Draco asks: „Harry, are you having trouble sleeping again?“</p><p>During their time at the Ministry together, Harry eventually told Draco that he often couldn't fall asleep. Draco hadn't said much to it, but his eyes said a lot. After that conversation, Harry had considered Draco a friend.</p><p>Two weeks ago, Draco's question would've made Harry fall silent.</p><p>But now, Harry just looks at his hands and says: „Yes.“</p><p>Harry is sitting on the counter, Draco leaning against it. Their sides would brush if Harry wasn't so careful to keep his limbs away from Draco.</p><p>„Would you like to have dinner with me on the weekend?“ Draco asks.</p><p>He doesn't sound like someone expecting the answer to be affirmative. But he asks anyway.</p><p>Harry stills. Shoves his hands under his thighs.</p><p>„I said I won't -“</p><p>„I didn't mean it like that,“ Draco cuts him off. It's almost as if he couldn't bear hearing Harry say it again.</p><p>Harry bites his lip. His thoughts are running.</p><p>He <em>wants </em>to have dinner with Draco.</p><p>But he shouldn't. He knows he shouldn't.</p><p>Then Draco catches Harry's eyes. His gaze is more open than Harry is used to.</p><p>„Was it that terrible?“ Draco asks and now it's undeniable – Draco is hurt. He tries to sound unbothered, almost joking, but he doesn't. Not at all.</p><p>„What?“ Harry asks, heartbeat too fast.</p><p>„The sex. Was it so terrible that you have to remind me we're not going to do it again every single day?“</p><p>Harry's mouth opens.</p><p>That's not it at all. But... if Draco doesn't realize how he's hurt Harry, does Harry really want to clear things up?</p><p>No. No he doesn't.</p><p>So he shrugs. „It wasn't, but... I just.“</p><p>Draco's jaw works. His chin lifts and he moves away from Harry. Harry misses his warmth.</p><p>„Why do you want to have dinner with me?“ Harry asks, softly.</p><p>„I thought we could be friends again.“ Draco's voice is flat.</p><p>Harry suspects he's being stupid again.</p><p>In the end, he doesn't care.</p><p>„Okay.“</p><p> </p><p>Harry and Draco had three dinners in three weeks when Draco sends Harry a text – the first one he's ever sent him.</p><p><em>My mother is sick</em>, is all it says.</p><p>Harry is torn between visiting Draco and giving him space. He knows the Slytherin spends his days at St. Mungo's to be with Narcissa.</p><p>He doesn't know if Draco is alone or if there is someone else taking care of him.</p><p>The day after he got the letter, he apparates to St. Mungo's. When he sees Pansy Parkinson crossing the entry hall on high heels, he turns around and walks out again.</p><p>He thinks it's the right thing to do. Draco and Harry aren't the kind of friends you want around when your mother is dying.</p><p>So Harry waits.</p><p> </p><p>As much as Harry wants to function like a normal human being, he can't escape the thoughts. They mostly come at night.</p><p>He wishes he was thinking of Draco, but he's not.</p><p>Not at night, at least.</p><p>He tosses and turns in his bed.</p><p>
  <em>The belt buckle jangles as Uncle Vernon gets ready. Harry screams when the leather bites his naked skin. „Bad boys get spanked,“ his uncle says. Harry aplogises – for what, he doesn't know – but Uncle Vernon is not a merciful man. He whips Harry until he bleeds.</em>
</p><p>Sweat is running down Harry's back. Stop, he tells his brain. Just stop. It's over.</p><p>But it's not. It never is.</p><p>„<em>Please, Aunt Petunia.“ But Harry's aunt walks away.</em></p><p>
  <em>Tears spill over Harry's cheeks. The smell of dust bites his nose as he crawls back to his thin mattress. The biggest of his spiders glances down at him. Harry never knows if he likes his spiders or if they disgust him. They look pretty disgusting and he hates the feeling of them on his skin, but as long as they're breathing in this cupboard, Harry feels like he can too.</em>
</p><p>Harry sits up in his bed. His shirt is clinging to his back. He smells bad. With shaking limbs, Harry climbs out of bed. Stumbles toward the shower.</p><p>When he turns on the shower head and the water hits his skin, he feels another memory nudge at his mind.</p><p>
  <em>The light is dim in the room with the yellow wallpapers.</em>
</p><p>Harry gasps and pinches himself. No, he says. No. Not this one. He doesn't remember this. He <em>doesn't</em>.</p><p>His hands keep slipping off the handle, but finally, he manages to turn the water icy. It's so cold it hurts, but it banishes the memories and Harry almost cries with relief.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa Malfoy dies on the thirtiest of January.</p><p>Harry tries to reach out to Draco. He doesn't really know what he could do, but he knows he wants to help.</p><p>But Draco doesn't want Harry to help him. He hides at Parkinson's place and Harry has to accept that.</p><p>He doesn't know if Draco and he are still talking.</p><p>The couple dinners they had felt like the tentative rekindling of their lost friendship. It was nice. Draco hadn't once tried to touch Harry and Harry told himself that was good. It didn't <em>feel </em>good, but his brain told him it was.</p><p>Before Narcissa got sick, they had made plans for Draco to show Harry that one vietnamese restaurant he loved so much.</p><p>Harry doesn't think he'll ever get to see it.</p><p> </p><p>„Only one, honey,“ a wizard with receding hairline and prominent glasses tells his daughter. She sulks and puts the sugar quills back on the shelf.</p><p>„You want the snow rabbits?“ her dad asks. She nods, tugging on her short pony tail.</p><p>Harry stares at them for way too long.</p><p>
  <em>A spider scuttles over Harry's naked ankle. He doesn't care much. He's too busy squeezing his crotch, barely daring to breathe. His bladder feels like it's about to burst any moment.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But he knows he has to hold it in, has to make it until the morning when Uncle Vernon will unlock his cupboard and he can go to the toilet. If he doesn't make it, the belt will rip open the fresh scars on Harry's backside.</em>
</p><p>„Harry? Are you alright?“ Lavender sounds concerned.</p><p>Harry startles. To his feet lies shattered glass.</p><p>He must have dropped the jar with the truffles. Across the room, two customers look at him warily.</p><p>„Oh. Yeah, I – sorry.“ Harry draws his wand. His hands shake too much for him to cast.</p><p>„Reparo.“ Under Lavender's spell, the jar puts itself back together.</p><p>„Are you <em>sure </em>everything's okay?“ Lavender's blue eyes are worried. There are smears of flour and sugar all over her clothes.</p><p>„Yeah,“ Harry say, pasting on a smile. „Just didn't sleep so well last night.“</p><p> </p><p>Harry is just about to pour himself his second glass of firewhiskey when it knocks on the door.</p><p>Sure that it must be Ron, Harry pads through the doorway and rips it open.</p><p>„I thought you're out with – oh.“</p><p>Harry's eyes widen.</p><p>Draco is standing on his doorstep and Harry has never seen him like this.</p><p>His face is gaunt, his eyes bloodshut. He's been crying.</p><p>„Draco,“ Harry says.</p><p>The Slytherin swallows. Harry isn't sure if he's here to hex him. He doesn't care.</p><p>„Come in,“ Harry says, but Draco just keeps standing on his doorstep, lightly swaying on his feet.</p><p>Harry takes his hand. It's cold as ice.</p><p>He leads him inside. Sits him down on his couch. With a flick of his wand, he banishes the takeaway boxes and dirty clothes littered over the room.</p><p>„She's dead,“ Draco says, staring at Harry.</p><p>Harry nods, his chest tightening. „I've heard. Draco, I'm so sorry.“</p><p>The Slytherin swallows. Reaches for the bottle of whiskey and puts it to his lips.</p><p>Gingerly, Harry sits down next to Draco, careful not to invade Draco's space.</p><p>„Everyone knew,“ Draco says. A tiny trail of whisky is shining on his chin. Harry waits for him to continue.</p><p>„She's been wasting away since the war. We knew she would...“</p><p>Draco grits his teeth and Harry fears for his jaw.</p><p>He takes the bottle from Draco and sips. The blond snatches it back, taking a swig.</p><p>„She just stopped fighting.“ Draco looks at Harry now. „She didn't want to fight. I think she -“ He cuts himself off. Takes another swig.</p><p>His mouth curls into that sneer Harry hates so much. „She wanted to die,“ he says, voice as cold as it gets. „There was nothing left for her to live for.“</p><p>Harry is not too stupid to miss what he's actually saying.</p><p>Without thinking, he puts a hand on Draco's. „Your mother loved you.“</p><p>Draco doesn't pull his hand away, but he doesn't take Harry's either. „Not as much as she loved Father.“</p><p>Harry fixes Draco's face, trying to burn some of his conviction into him. „She loved you enough to lie to Voldemort. She would've done anything for you.“</p><p>„Except live.“ Draco's voice breaks as he looks at Harry.</p><p>Harry's heart clenches. It's been a while since he has felt so much empathy, so much pain for another person.</p><p>„She was ill, Draco. She didn't want to go.“</p><p>Harry isn't surprised when Draco kisses him. He opens his mouth willingly, drowns in Draco's needy, hungry kisses. Draco's desperate. Wild.</p><p>Harry lets him push him on his back and spreads his legs. He'd do anything to make this better for Draco.</p><p>The Slytherin bites Harry's lip so that it bleeds, one hand on his zipper.</p><p>Suddenly, he stops. They're both breathing heavily.</p><p>„What's wrong?“ Harry asks, trying to fight his instinctive reaction – thinking he's done something wrong, something to displease Draco.</p><p>„I – I can't do this.“</p><p>Draco sits up. Moves away from Harry.</p><p>It's like Harry's skin is soiled and Draco is afraid to get himself dirty.</p><p>Harry knows this is about Draco, it's wrong of him to make this about himself, but he can barely breathe. Draco's rejection, his <em>disgust, </em>cuts him open.</p><p>„Okay,“ Harry says and now he doesn't know what to do. He can feel a panic attack coming and breathe breathe breathe. Now is a bad time. The worst time.</p><p>Draco looks at him.</p><p>„Are you alright?“</p><p>Harry nods, focuses on his breathing. <em>Draco</em>, he tells himself. Draco is in pain. Harry needs to help him.</p><p>He pinches the thin skin of his cuticles until he's bleeding and finally, his heart slows a bit. His airways clear.</p><p>„Yeah,“ Harry says, nodding at Draco. Even managing a smile. He opens his mouth to say something – no idea what – but Draco is quicker.</p><p>„Hey. Stop that.“</p><p>He takes Harry's bleeding hand in his, frowning deeply.</p><p>„It's fine,“ Harry says. „Sorry.“</p><p>Draco doesn't let go of his hand and Harry is getting breathless again. Only that it feels very different from the breathlessness of a panic attack.</p><p>„Do you want me to go?“ Draco asks, not looking at Harry.</p><p>„You can stay as long as you want.“</p><p>Grey eyes pierce Harry's.</p><p>„But do you want me to?“</p><p>Harry swallows. Nods.</p><p>He does. It's pathetic, but he wants Draco around all the time.</p><p>Tentatively – afraid to be rejected again – Harry weaves his fingers through Draco's.</p><p>Maybe Draco doesn't want him anymore, but he needs someone right now.</p><p>Draco squeezes his hand. His free one reaches for the bottle.</p><p>„Thanks,“ he says and Harry just nods.</p><p>They sit in silence, holding hands and sharing a bottle, until the sun rises.</p><p> </p><p>Harry wants to sleep with Draco. He knows it's ridiculous. They've just started to be friends again. He's just begun to get over the humiliation of Draco dropping him after fucking him in a public bathroom.</p><p>They work as friends. They won't work as fuckbuddies, Harry knows that. And Draco isn't into him. Sleeping with him would be the worst thing Harry could do.</p><p>Yet he can barely think about anything else.</p><p>„You're distracted,“ Ron tells him. They're sharing a pint at Ron's favourite pub after picking out a birthday present for his girlfriend. The cashier assured Ron the golden necklace would go perfectly with Kalea's dark skin, but Ron had his doubts. „I'm just not sure she likes gold that much.“ In the end, he bought the necklace anyway, because he knows the cashier knows better.</p><p>Harry puts his glass down. Without looking at Ron, he says: „I'm thinking about sex.“</p><p>Ron doesn't even flinch.</p><p>His best mate has never had a problem with Harry being gay, but it took a couple months until they were both comfortable to talk about sex. It was just something Ron had to shift his perspective on. The fact that Harry used to absolutely loathe talking about sex in general didn't make it easier.</p><p>Nowadays though, Harry knows he could tell Ron in detail about his sexual escapades and Ron wouldn't bat a lash.</p><p>Well, he probably would if he heard about some of Harry's... wilder nights. But not at the mention of tongues up arses or spunk in hair.</p><p>„In general? Or about someone you want to have sex with?“</p><p>Harry sips on his pint. It's lukewarm and looks like piss.</p><p>„Someone.“</p><p>„Okay. So he's bad?“</p><p>Ron doesn't know as much about Harry's bad habits as Hermione does, but he has a rough idea. He knows Harry's taste is shit.</p><p>Normally, Harry'd just nod. But this time, it's more complicated.</p><p>He hesitates.</p><p>„He's not really bad. He just... I. I think I might like him.“</p><p>Ron's eyes widen. „But that's great!“</p><p>He says it so enthusiastically that Harry winces.</p><p>It's been a long time since Harry has allowed himself to like someone, to want someone for more than just one brutal fuck. They've all let him down. He didn't think he could bear it one more time.</p><p>He still doesn't think he can. That's the problem.</p><p>„He doesn't like me back,“ Harry says and it surprises him how much those words sting.</p><p>Ron sobers. „You told him?“</p><p>Harry shakes his head and Ron brightens at once.</p><p>„Well, then you can't know. Many men can't read signs for shit. I still thought Kalea hates me when she already assumed we were a couple.“</p><p>Harry swallows. „We fucked and then he didn't talk to me for weeks. And when he did, he acted like everything was cool.“ He stares at the patterns on the wooden surface of the table. „It was a one night stand for him.“</p><p>„Oh.“ Ron sounds so disappointed that Harry gets angry at him.</p><p>„You're not helping.“</p><p>Ron hesitates. „I mean, feelings can change, right?“</p><p>„I don't think his have changed. And I don't want to ruin the friendship.“</p><p>Ron leans back, lifting his brows. „You're friends?“</p><p>Harry nods tentatively.</p><p>„That sounds pretty hopeful to me. I mean, he obviously wants to fuck you <em>and </em>he likes you as well. I'm sure he'd date you.“</p><p>„I'm sure he wouldn't. And even if he did...“ Harry can't end the sentence. <em>He'd leave anyway. </em>And Harry would be worse off than he is now.</p><p>No, it would be dumb to tell Draco.</p><p>Harry just needs to figure out how to stop thinking of the Slytherin's hands. Or his thighs, muscled and strong, but not obscenely so.</p><p>Draco's kisses are what always does Harry in. Just the thought of the blond's mouth on his own makes his heart ache.</p><p>„Mate,“ Ron says, blue eyes on Harry. His freckles are a touch paler than they are during summer. „If you really like that bloke, I think you should give it a shot. It sounds like you have a good chance.“</p><p>Harry's throat contracts. All he can do is shake his head.</p><p>„He'll want to keep it casual.“</p><p>„Many relationships start casual.“</p><p>Harry fidgets. He picks at his skin again until the old scratches open and his thumb is bleeding again.</p><p>„I feel like... I like him too much to risk it. You know what I mean?“</p><p>Ron's mouth is sad. He drains his pint, then looks at Harry. Nods.</p><p>„Yeah. I know what you mean.“</p><p> </p><p>The breakup was messy between Ron and Hermione.</p><p>He loved her. She needed freedom.</p><p>They tried to compromise, to meet in the middle, but it just wouldn't work. Hermione told him she's not what he wants and Harry knew she was right.</p><p>Ron didn't. He yelled at her and argued with her and finally, begged her not to leave him.</p><p>She left anyway, in tears.</p><p>Ron broke down. He didn't leave his flat for days. Trying to drown his sorrow.</p><p>Hermione wasn't well. Harry tried to check on her as often as he could, but that wasn't very often, because Ron needed him all the time.</p><p>There had been a point at which Harry was genuinely worried Ron might try to kill himself. Not just because of Hermione. But because it was all too much. The deaths, the PTSD, his broken family.</p><p>Ron had needed Hermione.</p><p>It took him years to really move on. Sometimes Harry thinks he never fully has.</p><p>Don't get that wrong – Harry is sure Ron loves Kalea. But at the same time... If Hermione would ask Ron today to take her back, Harry isn't sure what Ron would do.</p><p>Seeing how Hermione, without even wanting to, destroyed Ron's life, made Harry fearful, even more so than he already had been.</p><p>Ron and Hermione had survived the fallout because they were strong.</p><p>Deep down, Harry doubts he could survive a fallout like this. He already can't sleep. He's already broken.</p><p>Harry knows, if he lets him, Draco could ruin Harry.</p><p> </p><p>The sun is bright, but still cold. Harry can see his breath, a milky cloud in front of his face. The tip of Draco's nose is red. His grey scarf hides half of his mouth.</p><p>„I'm freezing,“ Draco states.</p><p>Harry is too, but he still likes to be outside. Even when his feet are falling off and he can't feel his fingers anymore.</p><p>„There's a café around that corner,“ Harry says, nodding at one of the several exits of the park. „If you want, we can go there.“</p><p>Draco's face lights up and he ups his pace.</p><p>„Go ahead,“ Harry says. „I'll catch up to you.“</p><p>Draco throws him a questioning look. Harry smiles at him.</p><p>He just wants one more minute under the trees. It's where he feels calmest.</p><p>„Alright,“ Draco says. „But don't take too long.“</p><p>Harry promises. Draco is barely three metres away when a bloke approaches Harry. He's tall, maybe thirty and probably muggle.</p><p>„Excuse me,“ he says. „Could you tell me the way to the next bus stop?“</p><p>Harry nods. „You just leave the park here, then head down the street and turn right.“</p><p>The bloke smiles. „Thanks. And how do I get from there into your bed?“</p><p>Harry's face freezes.</p><p>He should've known.</p><p>„I'm sorry,“ he says, turning away.</p><p>With a slimey smile, the bloke puts his hand on Harry's arm.</p><p>„I promise I'll make it worth your while. Just let me buy you a drink.“</p><p>The hand strokes up and down Harry's arm.</p><p>„I have a boyfriend,“ Harry says and wonders why he doesn't pull his arm away.</p><p>But it's like it's not even Harry's anymore.</p><p>„He doesn't have to know.“</p><p>The bloke steps closer. Harry turns his head away, but doesn't run. Doesn't even snap at the bloke.</p><p><em>You're a wizard</em>, he shouts at himself.</p><p>But his limbs remain limp.</p><p>When the bloke pulls Harry closer, panic floods Harry's system. He starts struggling.</p><p>Before he can reach for his wand though, the man is pushed back.</p><p>A fuming Draco is on him. Pressing the tip of his wand to the bloke's throat.</p><p>„What the fuck!“</p><p>The bloke tries to throw Draco off.</p><p>Harry can't hear the spell Draco hisses, but the man yells. Boils appear on his face.</p><p>„Do you not understand basic English,“ Draco says in that posh accent of his and Harry can only stare. „He told you no!“</p><p>„I – What -“</p><p>The bloke stares at Draco, terrified.</p><p>Draco sneers at him. He looks at him like one would look at a maggot if that maggot personally insulted you. „You're scum,“ he tells the bloke.</p><p>Touching one of the boils on his skin, the man stumbles back.</p><p>Draco points his wand at him. „Obliviate.“</p><p>His voice is cool and bored.</p><p>Harry touches Draco's elbow. He turns to him.</p><p>„How... I thought you left.“</p><p>Draco shouldn't have seen anything but a bloke asking Harry for directions.</p><p>A miracle happens.</p><p>Draco blushes. And not just a little bit. He blushes all the way from his widow's peak to his neck.</p><p>„Well, I... I thought perhaps I should wait and hear what that piece of shite wanted.“</p><p>Harry's mouth opens.</p><p>If not for the redness on Draco's face, he might have not caught on. But even Harry is not that oblivious.</p><p>Draco was jealous. He saw that bloke approaching Harry with a nice smile and thought he'd hit on him.</p><p>Harry pushes up on his tip toes and kisses Draco. Their lips are cold and chapped.</p><p>He pulls back, but stays close. Searches Draco's eyes.</p><p>Utter surprise is written in them.</p><p>„Harry,“ he says. „I -“</p><p>Harry's heart is at his throat and he thinks Draco can see it. Harry leans in again, his arms around Draco's neck. Harry wants Draco to hold him. He wants it so much, he thinks it'll kill him.</p><p>When Draco's arms come around Harry, he presses against him, making some soft, low noise.</p><p>„Harry,“ Draco says again, but it's not a question this time.</p><p>He kisses Harry and all the doubts he had if Draco still wants him like that evaporate. He does. He does want him.</p><p>His kisses are sure and cofident, gentle and demanding at the same time.</p><p>Harry's world narrows to the hand on his waist, the one in his hair. To chapped lips and a hot tongue and Draco's soft scarf under his fingers.</p><p>„I have a place,“ Harry says, lips brushing over Draco's mouth.</p><p>The Slytherin traces Harry's jawline.</p><p>„I'd have never guessed,“ Draco says. Underneath the tease, there are raw nerves.</p><p>„I.“ Harry has trouble thinking with Draco's lips on his neck. He bites, lightly. Harry's breath catches in his throat.</p><p>„We could go to mine,“ he finally chokes out.</p><p>Draco's hands still. He pulls back so he can look into Harry's face. His hair is tousled, his lips look very very kissed and a leaf caught on his scarf. Harry plucks it off.</p><p>„Last time you said it was a mistake.“</p><p>„It's different this time,“ Harry lies. He knows it's not.</p><p>But he wants this too much. If Draco's body is all that he can get, even if it is just once more, he'll take it.</p><p> </p><p>They land on Harry's front porch together. Harry fumbles for his keys. When Draco nips at his neck again, he drops it. They both laugh. Draco picks it up. Harry unlocks the door.</p><p>Harry drags Draco up the stairs, stumbling. On the landing, they pause to grope each other. Draco pulls Harry's jumper off, then lifts him by his thighs.</p><p>If there is one thing Harry loves, it's being carried. And, fuck, Draco carries him well.</p><p>The blond puts him down on his bed.</p><p>„You're beautiful,“ he says when he's stripped Harry.</p><p>Harry's skin is so hot. He reaches for Draco. He can't stop touching him.</p><p>They kiss. Draco's hand are between Harry's legs. Harry parts his thighs.</p><p>Like last time, Draco is gentle, though there is an urgency underneath his consideration that drives Harry up the wall with want.</p><p>They do it on hands and knees, until Harry drops to his elbows, cheek pressed to the pillow.</p><p>Usually in this position, Harry tends to forget who the cock up his arse belongs to. Often enough, it didn't matter.</p><p>But he can't forget with Draco. Not with the low groans the Slytherin makes. The hands on his hips, hauling him back, but not violently.</p><p>Harry feels his orgasm coiling in his belly and reaches between his legs. When he comes, clenching around Draco, the Slytherin throws his head back, arching.</p><p>„You're unreal,“ he says and comes inside Harry.</p><p> </p><p>After, Harry doesn't know what to do. He can't leave because this is his house.</p><p>Draco rolls onto his side. Harry props himself up on his elbows, watching the blond.</p><p>„Fuck, Potter,“ he says. A pale hand strokes over the curve of Harry's back, making him shiver. It pauses on the swell of his arse.</p><p>Harry blushes and looks away, fingers digging into the pillow he's hugging to his chest.</p><p>Nimble fingers slide into his crack. Stroke over his hole.</p><p>Harry gasps, opening his legs a little. His thighs are quivering.</p><p>Draco inches closer. His index pets Harry's hole. It flutters under his touch, still open.</p><p>„You're sore,“ Draco says.</p><p>Harry closes his eyes. His face is on fire.</p><p>He's rock hard again.</p><p>„Spread your legs, darling,“ Draco says.</p><p>Harry does. His whole body is throbbing with need. It takes him everything he has not to hump the mattress.</p><p>When he feels Draco's lips on his entrance, he cries out. It's quiet, sort of aborted. A pathetic sound.</p><p>A slightly damp hand is put on his thigh. Calloused fingertips caress the juncture of his arse and thigh.</p><p>„Too much?“</p><p>Harry shakes his head. Opens his legs wider.</p><p>He can feel Draco's breath, but the blond doesn't go in again. He's just looking.</p><p>It drives Harry out of his skin.</p><p>He's never felt anything like this before.</p><p>All he wants is for Draco to put his mouth back to where it was. No one has ever rimmed Harry before and he's never given it much thought, just the occasional wanking fantasy, but... he wants it now.</p><p>„You're very pink,“ Draco says.</p><p>Harry moans brokenly.</p><p>„And puffy, but that's my fault.“</p><p>Harry's knuckles are white, hands fisted in the sheets.</p><p>„Please,“ he says. „Please, Draco.“</p><p>„Please what?“ The Slytherin's voice is tinged with amusement and arousel.</p><p>Harry opens his mouth. Closes it again.</p><p>He can't say it.</p><p>„Please what, sweetheart?“</p><p>Harry whimpers. He cants his hips, silently begging.</p><p>Jesus, he's acting like a shameless slut. He'll hate himself later, he knows he will. But right now, he doesn't care.</p><p>He needs this.</p><p>„Aren't you sweet,“ Draco murmurs and then he kisses Harry.</p><p>Harry moans, high and breathy. When Draco's tongue flicks out, circling his swollen rim, he loses it.</p><p>There are no thoughts in his head anymore. He doesn't have a name.</p><p>He's not Harry Potter, he is just his body.</p><p>Harry didn't know it was possible to feel pleasure like this.</p><p>Draco's hands are on Harry's hips, the cheeks of his arse. Holding him open and keeping him from bucking too hard.</p><p>Petting him.</p><p>Harry comes from a thrust from Draco's tongue.</p><p>„Dracodracodracodraco.“ He doesn't know what he's saying. He lost control.</p><p>Draco pulls back, hands running over Harry's thighs, smoothing over his arse, up his back, following the curve of his spine.</p><p>Harry is blinded by the aftershocks of his magnificent orgasm, but he still feels the soft, little kisses Draco presses to his shoulder blades. He mouths at the nape of Harry's neck. His fingers run over Harry's ribs.</p><p>„Draco,“ Harry tries. Rolling onto his back is hard, hard work.</p><p>Before he can reach for Draco's cock, the Slytherin kisses him. His mouth is hot and hard and needy and he tastes like Harry. Harry puts his hands in Draco's hair and kisses him back.</p><p>Draco's erection is digging into Harry's hip and he tries to reach for it, even though his hands are clumsy.</p><p>„Don't,“ Draco says.</p><p>Harry blinks, a hint of unease returning.</p><p>„Just lie still. Look at me.“</p><p>Harry does. He looks at Draco, kneeling on the bed, his stomach tense, skin shining with sweat.</p><p>He looks like a god. Like the spark of a new story. He looks like sin and absolution, like a saint and like the devil.</p><p>Harry thinks he might be an angel. And he doesn't care if it's Lucifer.</p><p>Draco's mouth opens, no sound coming out. His fist is flying over his cock. His balls draw up tight.</p><p>
  <em>Just lie back. Fuck, you want it. Want me to come all over you, yeah? Mark your sweet face?</em>
</p><p>Harry gasps, panic surging through his body. His eyes are wide. He opens his mouth. <em>Stop</em>.</p><p>He isn't sure if he'd have actually said it, but it doesn't matter.</p><p>Draco is already coming. Splashes of cum hit Harry's belly. Some his chest.</p><p>He can't breathe. His arms and legs are useless. Wooden.</p><p>
  <em>It feels like getting mud thrown at you. But the mud is hot and white. Sticky on Harry's skin. </em>
</p><p>„<em>Fuck. You're so filthy.“</em></p><p>
  <em>Harry feels filthy. He needs a shower. He wants a shower, now.</em>
</p><p><em>A smack on his arse. He hides his face in his arms. </em>Pretend you don't exist.</p><p>„<em>See you next month.“</em></p><p>„Harry? Harry, are you alright?“</p><p>Instinctively, Harry moves away. There are hands grabbing at him.</p><p>He doesn't want them. He wants them to go go go. He wants to be alone.</p><p>And a shower. <em>Please, let me shower.</em></p><p>„Harry. Talk to me.“</p><p>Fingertips brush his cheek. No grabbing hands.</p><p>Harry inhales sharply.</p><p>The room shifts back into focus. It's his bedroom. No yellow wallpapers.</p><p>And the hands reaching for him belong to Draco.</p><p>Draco, who looks scared shitless.</p><p>Harry takes another breath. <em>Get a grip</em>.</p><p>„Sorry,“ he says and scrambles into a sitting position. His heart is still racing.</p><p>He feels dirty all over. „I just...“</p><p>Draco sits up with him. „What happened?“</p><p>Harry can't look at him.</p><p>„Nothing, sorry.“ He swings his legs out of bed. For a moment, he's afraid they won't carry him. But they're reliable as alway. „Bathroom,“ he tells Draco. Or rather the bedpost.</p><p>In the bathroom, the bath tub beckons him. It's always the best cure when he feels like this.</p><p>But Draco is still in his bed. What if he's waiting for Harry to come back?</p><p>„I bet he's already on his way out,“ he tells the mirror, trying to avoid his own reflection.</p><p>„Don't be daft,“ the mirror creaks.</p><p>Harry fills the tub with warm, soapy water and then sinks into it. He sighs.</p><p>The water is too hot, boiling him, but that's exactly how he likes it. He needs it to burn.</p><p>Harry tugs his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Resting his chin on his knees.</p><p>This isn't the first time something like this happened.</p><p>It has before, a couple times. Once when he first sucked a bloke off. He freaked out and Harry is rather sure that that's the main reason why he's never been very fond of giving blow jobs. Not that he hates it, but he often feels uncomfortable.</p><p>The worst time was by far with that biker bloke that smelled like Hennessey and had a very American smile. He spanked Harry and then he had to get him to St. Mungo's because Harry hyperventilated and wouldn't calm down and eventually passed out.</p><p>You don't need to be a psychologist to get where that was coming from. Uncle Vernon spanked Harry often and he did it brutally.</p><p>So, Harry doesn't feel overly weird for freaking out when that bloke whipped his naked arse with a heavy leather belt.</p><p>The weird thing, the thing that makes Harry feel like he's filth himself, is that – that Harry <em>likes </em>being spanked.</p><p>Or maybe <em>like </em>is the wrong word. But he craves it. He found another bloke to do it after that first failure and then another one and another one.</p><p>It always scares Harry and after, he feels like a slag, a whore for it, like he deserves nothing at all. Still he comes back. Wants it again. Wants it <em>harder</em>.</p><p>Harry allows himself one dry sob, then presses his chin against his knees again.</p><p>He's fucked up. He knows he is.</p><p>But why today? Why did it have to happen with Draco?</p><p>It doesn't always. Last time with the Slytherin, it didn't.</p><p>„I messed up,“ he whispers into the room.</p><p>The mirror sighs. „You are one foolish child.“</p><p>„I know.“</p><p>„I'm quite certain you don't.“</p><p>Before Harry can find an answer to that, a tentative knock on the door startles him.</p><p>„Harry? Are you in there?“</p><p>Harry's heart speeds again. „Um, yeah.“</p><p>Silence. Then: „Do you want me to leave?“</p><p>Harry closes his eyes. There are tears again, tears pressing against his eye lids.</p><p>He used to cry a lot when he was little. Then Vernon and Petunia beat it out of him.</p><p>„Harry?“</p><p>But Harry can't answer. He doesn't know what to say.</p><p>He doesn't want Draco to leave, but he isn't sure he could bear him to stay, either.</p><p>„Can I come in?“</p><p>Harry wraps his arms tighter around his legs. Stays silent.</p><p>„Alright, I'm coming in now.“</p><p>The door opens.</p><p>Draco is wearing his jeans. Nothing else. He looks confused. And worried.</p><p>„Harry.“</p><p>„Finally,“ the mirror says, bored beyond measure.</p><p>Draco crosses the room. Stands next to the tub uncertainly, then crouches down.</p><p>„What's the matter? Do you need anything?“</p><p>Harry shakes his head. He can't look at Draco. He feels like he won't ever be able to look at him again.</p><p>This was a bad idea.</p><p>Draco will not only think he's a slut now, but also that he's completely mental.</p><p>„Did I hurt you?“ The Slytherin's voice is barely more than a whisper. „I'm so sorry, Harry.“</p><p>Harry hiccups. „No,“ he says, shaking his head. „No, you didn't. I'm sorry, it's all me; I – I-“</p><p>„Hey.“</p><p>Draco's fingers touch his shoulder. When Harry doesn't flinch, he puts his whole hand there, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.</p><p>„You can talk to me.“</p><p>But Harry can't. He's not talking about any of this.</p><p>„Scoot over.“</p><p>Bewildered, Harry glances at Draco's chin. Without taking off his jeans, the Slytherin climbs into the tub behind Harry.</p><p>„Salazar, this is an awful bath tub. I'm sure you could afford a better one, yes? Preferably one that's actually big enough to lay in.“</p><p>Carefully, Draco pushes his arm under Harry's. Wraps them around his chest and and then pulls him back, until Harry's back is against Draco's chest.</p><p>„Relax,“ the Slytherin says into his ear. „Relax, Harry. It's alright. I've got you.“</p><p>Slowly, very slowly, Harry releases his locked muscles until his legs stretch out. His arms soften. He doesn't know where to put his hands – Draco is everywhere, his skin is everywhere – and eventually settles them on Draco's arm.</p><p>Draco puts his chin on Harry's head. His bent knees are bracketing Harry.</p><p>He's surprised how safe he feels like this.</p><p>„Pansy is trying to convince me to go skiing with her,“ Draco says.</p><p>Harry doesn't ask why he's telling him this. He allows himself to press a little closer to Draco. Snuggle into his embrace.</p><p>Draco kisses Harry's head, arms tightening around him. Harry sighs, pleasure spreading through his body, relaxing his aching muscles.</p><p>„I fully intend not to,“ Draco says. „Skiing is ridiculous. And it's muggle.“ He pauses. His fingers stroke over Harry's chest. „But Pansy usually gets her way.“</p><p>Harry hums something to let Draco know he's listening.</p><p>Draco talks until Harry falls asleep in the tub. About Parkinson and about his agency and then something about an author Harry doesn't know, but he's already drifted off.</p><p>„Harry,“ Draco tries to wake him. Everything is foggy. „You need to get up.“</p><p>Harry doesn't want to. He wants to stay exactly where he is.</p><p>Gentle hands card through his hair. „Darling.“ The word is kissed to his ear.</p><p>Harry thinks he's gone to paradise.</p><p>„Alright,“ Draco's distant voice sighs. The warmth of his body still cradles Harry. „I'll take you then.“</p><p> </p><p>Harry wakes up to a note and breakfast. Draco went to work.</p><p>
  <em>I hope falling asleep in bath tubs isn't a habit of yours, Potter. Because then I'd be worried you're suicidal.</em>
</p><p><em>I'll be having lunch at the </em>Scorpion <em>today. Twelve sharp.</em></p><p> </p><p>The first thing Harry says when he sits down across the table from Draco is: „I'm so sorry, honestly. I – You see, I really...“</p><p>Arctic eyes blink at Harry.</p><p>„Oh, cut it out.“</p><p>Harry closes his mouth. His cheeks are flaming again.</p><p>He seriously, seriously considered not to show. He's not sure he can live down the embarrassment.</p><p>But then, not showing didn't really feel like an option. So here he is.</p><p>Harry thought Draco would want to talk about last night. But it turns out the Slytherin wants to speak about everything else but that.</p><p>Harry couldn't be more grateful.</p><p>The whole thing ends up being a little strange, but not awkward.</p><p>Strange, because Harry and Draco are friends, but now they've had sex, but they don't talk about it and Harry freaked out on Draco and then Draco climbed into Harry's bath tub with his jeans on and called Harry <em>darling</em>.</p><p>But they don't talk about that.</p><p>It's okay with Harry.</p><p>He's having a burger that turns out to be vegetarian (Harry didn't know – Draco laughs at him) and it's okay with him. Draco tells him he needs to pick out a birthday present for Parkinson and it's okay with Harry. When Draco presses his calf against Harry's under the table, that's very much okay with Harry.</p><p>„So,“ Draco says after they're done and for the first time, Harry can tell he's nervous.</p><p>Sometimes, Draco is very good at appearing cool and unbothered. But sometimes not.</p><p>„So,“ Harry says, smiling at him.</p><p>„I have tickets for the Cannons match on Saturday. It's going to be a bore, certainly, but I know nobody who'd actually want to see the Cannons fly, meaning I can't get rid of the tickets – I mean, who ever would? - so I was thinking, perhaps it'd be a good idea – well, a decent idea – if, you see, I don't go alone, because Pansy flaked on me for some bird she desperately needs to see naked, which I really don't think is very smart, since they are close friends, but -“</p><p>Draco closes his mouth when he realizes Harry's is hanging open.</p><p>Harry has never heard Draco babble like this before. It's thrilling. He rubs his ankle against Draco's under the table.</p><p>„Are you trying to ask me to go see the Cannons with you?“</p><p>Draco blushes the most lovely shade of pink. Harry wants to crawl under his skin and wear it.</p><p>„Yes. I suppose I am.“</p><p>„Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I'll go with you.“</p><p> </p><p>Harry isn't completely sure, but pretty, pretty sure that this is a date. It's definitely not a casual hang out between friends. Friends don't hold hands on the ranks, sweaty palms pressed together.</p><p>It might be a fuckbuddy date, Harry guesses, but that seems unlikely too. Fuckbuddies don't go on dates, do they? That's the whole point of the concept.</p><p>Which means, this is a date. Harry is having a date with Draco.</p><p>„Their new Chaser actually isn't completely incompetent,“ Draco says when they leave the stadion, still holding hands, but neither of them acknowledging it in any way. „The team is still atrocious, but I assume Lively might make the jump to a better team.“</p><p>„Ron loves the Cannons,“ Harry says.</p><p>Draco doesn't bat a lash. „Which says it all, don't you think?“</p><p>Harry will not let Draco insult his friends, but he feels like, by Draco's standards, this is not a real insult. Pick your battles.</p><p>„Do you want to grab some dinner?“ Harry asks when they both walk past the apparition point.</p><p>Draco hitches one shoulder. „Why not.“</p><p> </p><p>They've been on five dates, not counting the stroll through the park that ended in Harry's bath tub, when Draco asks.</p><p>On four of those dates, they've had sex. Three of those four times, those shags involved Draco's cock in Harry's arse. One of those three shags, Harry freaked out. He doesn't know why. One second, Draco puts his hands on Harry's thighs, the next Harry starts hyperventilating.</p><p>Well. It might have something to do with the fact that Draco said: „You're a slut for it, aren't you?“</p><p>But Harry doesn't want to think about why he might not like to hear those words.</p><p>He presses the balls of his hand into his eyes until red dots are dancing in front of them, obscuring his vision.</p><p>They're sitting on the couch at Grimmauld. Harry's arse and back ache and for the first time since they started this, Harry genuinely wants Draco to go. Madness is gnawing at his fingertips and he doesn't feel strong enough to face the Slytherin.</p><p>„Why do you get spooked?“ Draco asks. His hands are fidgeting. He wants to touch Harry, but isn't sure he's allowed to.</p><p>Harry pulls up his pants, then looks for his jeans.</p><p>„It doesn't matter,“ he says.</p><p>„Harry.“</p><p>„I'm fine.“</p><p>Draco's eyes narrow at him. „You clearly aren't.“</p><p>Harry snaps. He blames it on the high tension, on the panic – the past terror and his present, very very real fear of Draco leaving.</p><p>„You got off, didn't you? So will you let it go now?“</p><p>Draco flinches. His face hardens. He puts a hand on Harry's forearm.</p><p>Harry wishes he wouldn't. Draco can't see the grime on his skin. It's staining his aristocratic fingers.</p><p>„This is not just about getting off,“ Draco says, his posh accent coming through stronger. „Or is it for you?“</p><p>Harry looks at the ceiling. He tries not to cry. Or scream.</p><p>„I can't do this right now.“</p><p>Draco pulls his hand away.</p><p>„Fine.“ His voice is clipped. He sounds hurt.</p><p>Harry can't even make himself look at Draco.</p><p>„You want me to leave?“ Draco asks.</p><p>Harry nods.</p><p>Draco gets up, puts his clothes on in record time while Harry watches his feet, not daring to look higher than Draco's bony knees.</p><p>The Slytherin storms out and Harry curls up on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut.</p><p>
  <em>Just lie back. Fuck, you want it.</em>
</p><p>Not now, Harry thinks, desperate. Not ever. Why is his mind playing tricks on him?</p><p>Why can't he just forget?</p><p>His breathing is laboured. He's gasping for air, but there is none.</p><p>„I'm not leaving. I've decided I'm not leaving, because you are being a fool and I – Harry?“</p><p>Draco rushes over. Draco is next to him. Draco takes Harry's hands in his.</p><p>„Harry, look at me.“</p><p>Harry can't.</p><p>
  <em>A smack on his arse. He hides his face in his arms.</em>
</p><p>„Open your eyes.“</p><p>Their is a silent, compelling command in Draco's voice that Harry has to follow.</p><p>He opens his eyes.</p><p>Draco's are calm. They are storm and rain and smoke all at once. They are steady.</p><p>„Breathe in,“ he says. „Breathe out. You're okay.“</p><p>But Harry can't breathe. He's suffocating.</p><p>
  <em>Yellow wallpaper. There is a stain on the ceiling. Looks like coffee. Harry knows, because he's stared at it for eternity.</em>
</p><p>„Harry, breathe. In – like this.“</p><p>Draco is trying to get him to do what Iris always taught him.</p><p>It's just a panic attack. He's not going to die. It's just a panic attack.</p><p>Harry takes a shallow breath.</p><p>„That's it,“ Draco says, holding his hands tighter. „That's it, Harry. Breathe out.“</p><p>They breathe together until the huge iron fists around Harry's chest finally open and Harry starts shaking. Draco pulls him into his arms. He rocks him like one would rock a baby.</p><p>„It's alright,“ he whispers. „You'll be okay.“</p><p>Draco smells like lavender. Harry holds onto him for dear life.</p><p>And then, all of a sudden, he has to think of Dave.</p><p>Dave, who always held Harry after he hurt him. After he hurt him just right, just the way Harry wanted to be hurt. He'd hold him and kiss him. Call him baby.</p><p>It was all it took for Harry to want him to stay.</p><p>But Harry never told Dave about what happened – none of it, not even the things Harry acknowledges, the things that make him feel lonely and unworthy, but not filthy like those <em>other </em>things – and Dave left.</p><p>Draco will leave, too. What feels nice now will only be hell later.</p><p>Harry struggles. Gets out of Draco's arms. He's still shaking.</p><p>Draco lets go of him only reluctantly.</p><p>„Harry,“ he says, his hand running up and down Harry's arm.</p><p>„Thank you,“ Harry says, staring at his knees. „But please go now. Please, Draco.“</p><p>Draco hesitates. „We don't have to talk about it.“</p><p>„Please go.“</p><p>„I don't want to leave you alone.“</p><p>Harry looks at him. Draco meets his eyes. It's what diving feels like. That moment when you need air, but you don't want to surface just yet.</p><p>„I won't talk about it,“ Harry says. He's surprised at the decisiveness of his own voice.</p><p>Draco nods. „Alright. But perhaps you could at least tell me the things you don't want me to do.“</p><p>Harry winces. Looks at him with scared eyes.</p><p>„This is a very normal thing to do, Harry,“ Draco says. He says it very very softly.</p><p>Not knowing what to say, Harry stays quiet. Draco inclines his head. Harry notices that his shirt is buttoned askew.</p><p>„People discuss hard nos before they sleep together. I usually only do it when I'm not doing vanilla, but if there are things you're sensitive about, you should tell me.“</p><p>Harry looks at his hands. He really needs to stop biting his cuticles.</p><p>„No one's ever asked me about that before.“</p><p>Draco's jaw shifts. „What kind of blokes have you been sleeping with?“</p><p>„Arseholes,“ Harry says.</p><p>„Anyone in particular I need to kill?“</p><p>Casually, Draco leans in and brushes Harry's fringe out of his eyes. His fingers linger on the scar.</p><p>There is one, Harry knows that, but he can't say. He doesn't remember his face and he'd prefer it to stay that way.</p><p>„No,“ he just says.</p><p>Draco looks at him as if he knows Harry is lying.</p><p>Harry thinks he likes that.</p><p> </p><p>Draco tries to cook dinner for Harry. Harry watches him burn the pasta from his premium spot on his counter.</p><p>„Your stove is ancient, Potter,“ Draco says. His neck is blotchy red. It makes his skin look vulnerable. Delicate.</p><p>„Don't blame my poor stove.“</p><p>„I'm blaming your stove all I want.“</p><p>With an annoyed tilt of his head, Draco flicks his wand and banishes the pasta.</p><p>The jumper Draco is wearing is grey and so so soft. Harry knows, because he took it off earlier.</p><p>He reaches out. It's a long way until his fingers touch Draco's shoulder.</p><p>The fabric feels like velvet.</p><p>Draco turns to him and steps closer. Harry's hands smooth over the Slytherin's shoulder, his legs dangling in the air.</p><p>„I'm assuming we're ordering in, then,“ Draco says and Harry knows he's looking at his face, but he's too busy watching his hands caressing Draco.</p><p>„I don't like to be called names,“ he says, toying with the neck of the jumper.</p><p>„Alright,“ Draco says and Harry is endlessly grateful for not having to explain himself further.</p><p>Already, he feels a little sick, heart speeding and speeding in his chest.</p><p>Draco steps closer, between Harry's knees. He rests his hands on them. His fingers circle the bones.</p><p>„What about pet names?“</p><p>Instantly, Harry flushes. He watches Draco's hands.</p><p>He thinks he might have a fetish for them. They are pure sex. Harry could watch them all day. They are the perfect fusion of strength and fragility.</p><p>„I don't mind them,“ Harry says and he knows Draco knows Harry <em>loves </em>pet names.</p><p>The blond hums. Then he steps away and opens his mouth, probably to ask something else about Harry's preferences and Harry doesn't want him to.</p><p>He slips off the counter.</p><p>„What do you think about pizza?“</p><p> </p><p>Harry is just about to close the shop when Draco rushes in.</p><p>„I need a present for Pansy,“ he announces. Harry stands and stares, keys in his hand.</p><p>Draco is already a metre past him and Harry's heart is beating beating beating. Then Draco turns, walks back to Harry. Puts a hand on his cheek and gives him a quick kiss.</p><p>„She likes anything Raymond makes,“ he tells Harry and Harry knows he must look like an idiot, the way he's gaping at Draco.</p><p>„Okay,“ he says.</p><p>One of his hands is clinging to the front of Draco's jumper. Harry doesn't know how it got there. He tilts his chin and looks at Draco.</p><p>A smile flickers over Draco's lips. Then stays.</p><p>He leans down and kisses Harry again.</p><p>Neither of them meant for it to be more than another peck, but when Harry wraps his arms around Draco's neck – when Draco grins against his lips before deepening the kiss – well, a peck isn't enough.</p><p>They end up making out, Harry sitting on his counter, Draco between his legs.</p><p>„You are a very bad business man, Harry,“ Draco tells him, his hands petting Harry's thighs. One slips under Harry's jumper and presses lightly against his stomach.</p><p>„Hm,“ Harry says. He brushes his nose against Draco's. Opens his mouth. He wants to press closer, so close. He wants to live in Draco's body. He wants Draco's hands to sink into his, through his skin.</p><p>„You don't think you'll be back?“</p><p>Draco's hands slide to Harry's hips and he pulls him in. Harry gasps, arousel pooling in his stomach.</p><p>„Perhaps,“ he says. Then he moves away. „I really need a present for Pansy.“</p><p> </p><p>Draco comes over later and they make love in Harry's bed. Draco spends forever with his face between Harry's thighs and Harry starts stammering gibberish. All he really says is <em>Draco</em>.</p><p>After, they lie under the sheets together, the shine from the streelights illuminating the room. Draco's lips are in Harry's hair, his nakes legs fitted to Harry's.</p><p>Harry's eyes are wide open. He lies very still, trying not to disturb Draco.</p><p>Strong arms pull him closer. A displeased groan is huffed against his skull. Draco's hand presses gently against his chest, Harry's heart hammering against his smooth palm.</p><p>„What is it?“ Draco asks.</p><p>„Nothing.“</p><p>Harry swears, he can hear Draco roll his eyes.</p><p>Suddenly, Harry is manhandled until he's chest to chest with Draco, one leg hiked over the blond's hips.</p><p>„If you tell me this is a mistake again, then I will hex you,“ Draco says. His fingers weave through Harry's hair.</p><p>„What? No! Do you think so?“</p><p>„Do I think dating you is a mistake? Oh, certainly. You are quite insufferable, Potter.“</p><p>Harry's heartbeat is kicking. Accidently, he elbows Draco in the ribs as he's trying to get closer to the blond's face.</p><p>„We're dating?“</p><p>Draco gives him one of those smiles that he doesn't want to show, but can't help to. What Harry sees in his eyes... it makes the tension in his chest break.</p><p>„That is usually what you call it when two people are going on dates and sleep together. Wouldn't you agree?“</p><p>Harry smiles widely and leans down to kiss Draco. He puts his tongue in the blond's mouth and Draco moans quietly.</p><p>Nipping on Draco's bottom lip, Harry ends the kiss, leaning his forehead against Draco's.</p><p>„Yeah,“ he says, cotton candy filling his chest. „I agree.“</p><p> </p><p>It happens on a sunny day in March.</p><p>Harry is on his way back to the shop after lunch break. A business woman passes him, shouting into her phone. A man with a little girl on his hand saunters down the street, looking rather sleep-deprived. Harry watches the traffic light turn red and smiles. Draco slept over last night. He does every weekend now and often, he'll drop by during the week as well. When he has to wake up before Harry, he is always quiet as a mouse – then complains the whole day on how Harry got more sleep than he did. When Harry has to get up first, Draco always wakes too, hisses at him. Then kisses him with morning breath before snuggling back into the sheets, closing his eyes.</p><p>Harry takes a sip from his coffee, watching the traffic light. When it turns green, he puts his coffee down.</p><p>Before he can start walking, a man runs past him, over the street. Harry freezes. He watches the thin, mousy hair. The brown jacket, the shoes.</p><p>His heart is racing in alarm, but he doesn't know why.</p><p>He starts walking, too fast. Coffee spills over his hand. He doesn't notice.</p><p>On the other side of the street, the man comes to an abrupt stop. He fumbles for his phone. Then he gets it out.</p><p>He's still standing with his back to Harry. Harry is now close enough to notice the fat mole on the bloke's neck.</p><p>„Dammit,“ the man says. He turns far enough for Harry to see his profile, lifting his phone. Probably looking for directions.</p><p>A straight, prominent nose. Skin starting to hang from his jaw. A little moustache.</p><p>Harry turns away. He tries to run. Stumbles.</p><p>He makes it around the next corner. Falls to his knees. His hands hit the rough asphalt.</p><p>His lunch splashes over the ground, some getting on his jeans. His whole body is trembling.</p><p><em>Just lie back. Fuck, you want it</em>.</p><p>Harry puts his hand on his head. „No,“ he whines, too loud.</p><p>His heart is pumping in his throat. His vision goes black.</p><p>Harry remembers.</p><p> </p><p>He was five years old when it first happened.</p><p>It was the very first time ever that the Dursleys didn't leave him at home, but let him come along on a visit to relatives. He was excited. The car smelled like Dudley's jellies and Aunt Petunia's perfumes.</p><p>He can't remember who it was exactly. Maybe one of Uncle Vernon's cousins. Maybe Petunia's.</p><p>The house was bigger than the Dursley's. The carpets were soft.</p><p>A blond woman made lunch and Harry was allowed to eat the same as everyone else. He was happy, even though he felt like the woman didn't like him much.</p><p>„Help me with the dishes,“ she said. Harry didn't mind. At home, he often had to do the dishes by himself. That's where the scar on his thumb stam from – a knife that slipped through his fingers and cut him open. Aunt Petunia was scared by how much it bled.</p><p>„I need to bake some muffins for Clara,“ the woman said when they were done. Harry didn't know who Clara was.</p><p>The woman's dress was pretty. Harry remembers staring at the patterns.</p><p>„You will help me. Here, weigh that flour.“</p><p>Harry took the flour and wanted to weigh it, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.</p><p>„Christ, Jeannette. He's our guest. Don't make him work.“</p><p>The man's cologne was too heavy. It clogged Harry's nose.</p><p>The woman – Jeannette – stood very still.</p><p>„I need help with the muffins,“ she said. Harry thought she wanted to reach for his free shoulder. But she didn't.</p><p>„You need to relax,“ the man said. Then he smiled at Harry.</p><p>„Come on, little buddy. I'll give you a tour, alright?“</p><p> </p><p>The wallpapers were yellow. An ugly colour for a bedroom, Harry thought.</p><p>He didn't know why he suddenly felt like he did when he'd been locked into his cupboard for longer than a night. It was that clawy, scratchy feeling of wanting to leave.</p><p>The man was smiling at Harry still. He closed the door.</p><p>„Come here,“ he said and walked to the bed.</p><p>Harry swallowed. Hidden by the long sleeves of Dudley's old jumper, his indexes started to scratch at his thumbs.</p><p>
  <em>Behave, boy, or else...</em>
</p><p>Uncle Vernon's voice in his head, Harry stepped closer and smiled back.</p><p> </p><p>After that first time, Harry got very sick. So sick, the Dursleys had to take him to a hospital.</p><p>Harry remembers a hushed conversation between a nurse and Uncle Vernon that ended with the nurse fleeing from his raging uncle.</p><p>When Uncle Vernon took him back home, Harry was still barely able to walk. The fever had weakened him. For a couple hours, he had felt so bad that he just wanted to die.</p><p>Vernon grabbed his shoulder. Harry flinched and then started crying.</p><p>He had cried a lot in the hospital. There was a nurse, a young woman with blondish hair, that had gotten very annoyed with him. <em>It's just a fever,</em> she'd said. <em>You'll be fine</em>.</p><p>But then there was another nurse, a man with grey temples, even though his face looked young.</p><p><em>Hey, buddy. What're you crying about? </em>He'd asked.</p><p>He tried to touch Harry's shoulder. Harry stiffened. Cried harder.</p><p>The nurse drew his hand back.</p><p>
  <em>I'll get you some pudding, yeah? Chocolate or vanilla? </em>
</p><p>Harry didn't answer. He was shivering.</p><p>The nurse got him chocolate pudding and then more painkillers and then he said: <em>Were are those bruises from?</em></p><p>He meant the blue spots on Harry's wrists. Harry closed his eyes and pretended not to exist.</p><p>If he told anyone, the man would kill him.</p><p>Or Uncle Vernon would. He already said that Harry had been very, very bad for getting sick.</p><p><em>I told you to behave</em>, he threatened. <em>This will have consequences</em>.</p><p>Harry didn't know how he could've prevented getting sick, but he'd try harder in the future.</p><p>The friendly nurse looked at him. Harry can't remember his face, save for the red mark on his left nostril.</p><p>
  <em>If you need anything or want to talk, just call for me.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The second time, Harry tried to make himself sick so he'd be locked in his cupboard instead of having to go to the man's house. It didn't work.</p><p>From the third time on, Harry didn't do anything. Whenever he was in that house, he just pretended to be deaf and mute and sometimes blind. He discovered that you can make your mind float away if you want to. It leaves your body and nothing that happens is real.</p><p>At home, he didn't do anything anymore but lie in his cupboard or do chores when it was expected of him. He didn't really eat.</p><p>One day, he was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet and staring at Aunt Petunia's body lotion on the shelf like he always did so he would not, under any circumstances, look at <em>that</em>. He never looked in the mirror anymore and when he was naked, he closed his eyes. He once fell in the shower because of it. Petunia slapped him because his blood was so hard to get out of the curtain.</p><p>„Vernon,“ he heard Aunt Petunia say, voice unsure. „The boy.“</p><p>„What about him?“</p><p>„I just – he's not well. The neighbours talk.“</p><p>A pause.</p><p>„What are they saying?“</p><p>„They ask me if he's alright.“</p><p>„And? What did you tell'em?“</p><p>„That he is, of course! But they – I think they don't believe me. Vernon-“</p><p>„What?“</p><p>„I think... Maybe we shouldn't take him with us anymore. When we visit Gilbert. Not every time.“</p><p>A long, long pause. Harry isn't sure, but he feels like he can smell his aunt's fear through the door.</p><p>„I'll think about it,“ Uncle Vernon says finally.</p><p> </p><p>Harry wakes up in St. Mungo's. His head aches and he feels as if he'd have run a marathon.</p><p>For a moment, he doesn't remember.</p><p>But then he does and it's like he can't breathe all over again.</p><p>„Harry.“</p><p>A female voice. A very familiar voice.</p><p>He forces his eyes open. „Hermione?“</p><p>She rushes over. Takes his hand. Worry is written on her face. „How are you feeling?“</p><p>Harry's gaze slides off her to Ron and... Draco.</p><p>His stomach does a sickening churn.</p><p>„I'm okay,“ he says, even though he's not.</p><p>„Mate, you scared me,“ Ron says. He's pale. Harry can see every little freckle stark against his skin.</p><p>Draco is paler. He looks like a ghost.</p><p>Harry knows his friends must have been shocked to see him here. He didn't exactly tell them about Draco.</p><p>It's proof of their friendship that they both decided to talk about this later. To accept it.</p><p>Hermione strokes his hand.</p><p>„What happened?“ she asks quietly.</p><p>Harry's heartrate spikes. He knows Hermione can feel his pulse. Bile rises in his throat. He has to close his eyes. Take a few deep breaths through his nose.</p><p>„Harry.“ Draco's voice is rough. He looks awful.</p><p>Harry can't look it him. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to again.</p><p>Reluctantly, Hermione lets go of his hand. „Should we...?“</p><p>She exchanges a look with Ron.</p><p>„No,“ Harry says quickly.</p><p>Then, a lot more quietly: „Please leave, Draco.“</p><p>„Oh, hell no.“</p><p>Harry startles at the untypical curse. „I am not doing this right now. I'm staying, Harry. I'm staying and you will tell me what the fuck is going on.“</p><p>Draco is angry. Harry thinks he might pass out.</p><p>Hermione, sensing his distress, turns to Draco. „You have to go.“</p><p>Baring his teeth, Draco draws his wand. „I won't.“</p><p>Two wands are pointed at his chest.</p><p>„Go, Ferret, or we'll hex you. And you don't want Hermione to take you out, believe me.“</p><p>Draco is spitting fire.</p><p>„You can talk about it later,“ Hermione says, going for soothing.</p><p>Draco looks at Harry. Whatever he sees in the Gryffindor's face, it's enough to make him lower his wand.</p><p>„Call me when you're ready,“ he says and with that, he leaves the hospital.</p><p> </p><p>Harry doesn't call Draco.</p><p>He's not ready and he's quite sure he probably won't ever be.</p><p>He tries to forget again, but it doesn't work. He thinks about <em>it</em>, every single second of every single day.</p><p>„Harry, please talk to me,“ Hermione says, cleaning up Harry's vomit.</p><p>„Mate, what do you need? You can ask me for anything, you know that, right?“ Ron sounds more desperate than Harry has ever seen him.</p><p>But Harry can't talk to them. He spends his days scooped up in his house. Mostly hiding in his bed. Sometimes he'll turn up some music, so loud that his ear drums are about to burst.</p><p>Anything to escape the thoughts. But he can't. There's no escaping.</p><p>
  <em>Take it in your mouth. Yeah, like that. Open up, come on. Try harder.</em>
</p><p>Harry feels like all he does is puke and drink.</p><p>When he's sober, he feels like cutting his skin open. Like pulling it off. It's soiled and disgusting.</p><p>When he's drunk, more memories come, but they're muted. Not as hard to bear.</p><p>
  <em>Just lie back. Fuck, you want it.</em>
</p><p>Harry often curls up on his kitchen floor. The coldness seeps through his skin.</p><p>
  <em>You've been bad, haven't you? Now be quiet.</em>
</p><p>Sometimes, he screams.</p><p> </p><p>„Harry?“</p><p>It's Hermione who finds him. He's sitting on the edge of his bath tub, his wand in hand. Looking at his wrists.</p><p>Wondering.</p><p>„Harry!“</p><p>Hermione bursts in. Snatches his wand. He lets her.</p><p>„What are you doing?“</p><p>„Nothing,“ he says. He's pretty sure he wouldn't have. Today, he wouldn't have.</p><p>But what about tomorrow? What about next week?</p><p>He looks up at Hermione. Tears fill her eyes. Run down her cheeks.</p><p>„I can't do it anymore, Hermione,“ he says. It's a small relief. To finally say it.</p><p>Hermione crouches down. Looks up at him. She places her hands on his knees.</p><p>„Harry,“ she says. „You're not alone.“</p><p>Tears roll over Harry's face. He can't hold them back.</p><p>„I always think of <em>him</em>,“ he chokes out.</p><p>Hermione is shaking, but her hold on his knees is sure and strong.</p><p>„It will get better,“ she says. She doesn't know who he's talking about and he's not sure if she has any idea. But nonetheless, she's here.</p><p>Harry shakes his head.</p><p>„I can't,“ he says. „I – Hermione, he's <em>everywhere</em>. I'm – I'm just...“</p><p>Hermione gets up. Sits next to him, balancing on the edge of his bath tub.</p><p>„Listen to me,“ she says. She waits until he meets her eyes.</p><p>„I love you, Harry. Ron loves you. I'm pretty sure Draco loves you, too. We're all here for you. Whatever you need, we'll get it for you.“</p><p>Harry swallows. His heart hammers against his ribcage. „I'm too weak,“ he whispers.</p><p>„You're the strongest person I know.“</p><p>Hermione's hair is a mess. Deep circles rim her eyes. She's wearing one of Ron's old shirts.</p><p>Harry takes a deep, shuddering breath.</p><p>„I'm broken,“ he says, too fast. „I'm disgusting. I hate myself. I'm not worth saving.“</p><p>Hermione reaches out. Pulls him to her chest. She's soft and she smells like clean soap. She holds him so tightly that he can't get away.</p><p>„We'll get through this,“ she whispers.</p><p>Harry lets her hold him.</p><p> </p><p>The first time Harry sees Iris again, he doesn't talk at all. His therapist isn't bothered. She makes him tea and lets him curl up on her sofa and then waits.</p><p>The second time he makes an appointment, he talks about Draco. That Draco texted him, called him and that Harry didn't answer.</p><p>„I miss him,“ he says, his fingers digging into the blanket Iris gave him.</p><p>Iris folds her hands in front of her pudgy stomach.</p><p>„Then why don't you want to see him?“</p><p>„Because I can't. I'm not ready.“</p><p>„Why not?“</p><p>„Because... I need to be able to look into the mirror before I face him. I – I know he'll – he'll want to understand. He's asked about it, even before...“ Harry can't continue.</p><p>„It's okay to take your time, Harry,“ Iris says and hands him tissues.</p><p> </p><p>When Harry starts going to work again, he hires a very nice witch to work the cash register for him. He spends his days in the back, assisting Lavender and Ray.</p><p>They're both worried, but they don't ask.</p><p>Lavender talks his ear off about her girlfriends and her clothes and the weather and New York City and a boy she likes.</p><p>Raymond feeds him chocolate and candy canes and lets him borrow his work clothes.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione moves in with him. He doesn't see her all that often because she's so busy, but two or three times a week, they'll have dinner together. Usually, Harry cooks. When they order takeaway, Hermione pays.</p><p>Harry misses Draco terribly. So much so, sunlight feels cold.</p><p>But at the same time, he can't even imagine getting undressed in front of him. Can't imagine having the Slytherin in his bed or shower or kitchen or anywhere, really.</p><p>He misses Draco, but he doesn't feel like he'll ever be someone the Slytherin could want.</p><p> </p><p>He's been going to therapy for a month before Harry finally works up the courage to talk about why he's there.</p><p>Iris is completely quiet that first time. It takes him a full hour to get about five sentences out.</p><p>He doesn't say that much, but it's enough for Iris to know exactly what happened.</p><p>After he forced the words through his teeth, he breaks down crying. Iris lets him, makes him tea and hands him tissues and says a couple soothing words.</p><p>When he leaves, she looks at him out of her dark eyes and says: „I'm very proud of you, Harry. I will see you on Saturday, yes?“</p><p>Harry hesitates. Then nods.</p><p> </p><p>It's June when Harry first starts working the register again. He is a bit jumpy, easily startled, but his relief is enormous when he realizes that he still enjoys his job.</p><p>Draco hasn't contacted him since almost three months and Harry misses him more than ever.</p><p>He just hopes Draco is happy and that Harry won't have to see him with someone else.</p><p>He's organizing one of the scavenged shelves when he hears the doorbell tingle.</p><p>Turning around, he puts on a smile.</p><p>It drops along with the truffles he was holding when he sees it's Draco.</p><p>The Slytherin looks gorgeous in the sunlight. His hair is brighter than Harry remembers it and the thin shirt he's wearing... He belongs on a runway in Paris.</p><p>Harry's heart aches.</p><p>„Hi,“ Draco says. Harry has never seen him so timid. „If you want me to go, I will.“</p><p>Harry's heart is racing.</p><p>„No, I – Hello. I – You, do you...?“</p><p>Harry closes his eyes. Bites his lip. Tries again.</p><p>„Hi, Draco.“</p><p>An unsure smile ghosts over Draco's lips.</p><p>„You haven't called me,“ the Slytherin says.</p><p>Harry looks down. Picks up the truffles and puts them back on the shelf.</p><p>„Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.“</p><p>„Does that mean you don't want to see me again?“</p><p>Draco's eyes are cold, but they're glass. Harry can see – him. He can see Draco.</p><p>He crosses his arms to keep from scratching his thumbs.</p><p>„No,“ he says. „But I... I can't be in a relationship right now. I'm sorry, I...“</p><p>„Alright,“ Draco says.</p><p>And then he turns around and leaves.</p><p>Harry should have expected it, but really, he didn't. It hits him like a punch to the gut.</p><p>He's standing in the middle of his shop, gasping for air. Only when another customer walks in, he manages to pull himself together.</p><p> </p><p>Draco comes by the next day. He's bringing coffee.</p><p>„Pansy says you sell mango jellies. I think jellies are disgusting, but -“</p><p>„I know,“ Harry interrupts him.</p><p>Draco is wearing a short sleeved shirt today and Harry wants to run his hands over those pale, slender arms. He's always been transfixed by Draco's biceps. They're not very big, but when they flex, Harry can't look away.</p><p>Draco blinks. „Well. Pansy wants them.“</p><p>„I'll get them for you.“</p><p>He hands Draco a little bag. Draco looks at Harry when he takes it.</p><p>„How are you?“ he asks.</p><p>Harry meets his eyes. He answers genuinely.</p><p>„Not good, but it's getting better. Hermione lives with me now.“</p><p>Draco flinches. „Granger? You – But I thought you're...“</p><p>Harry needs a moment to catch on. Then he cringes.</p><p>„Eww, no. Hermione is like my sister.“ He rolls his eyes. „I said she <em>lives </em>with me.“</p><p>Draco inclines his head. „Well. That's nice then.“</p><p>„What about you?“ Harry asks. „How are you?“</p><p>Draco raises one elegant eyebrow. „I'm very well, thank you.“ He grabs the jellies and walks away.</p><p>On the doorstep, he pauses. Turns around. Looks at Harry.</p><p>„I'm not well. In fact, I miss you terribly.“</p><p>And with that, he walks into the sunlight.</p><p> </p><p>They become friends again. Every time they hang out, Harry reminds Draco that it's not a date. Draco always nods and Harry knows the Slytherin doesn't believe one word Harry's saying.</p><p>Harry doesn't either, but if he doesn't pretend, he'll freak out.</p><p>They get ice cream on a hot day during the end of June. Harry tries Draco's mint chocolate and makes a face.</p><p>„Tastes like toothpaste,“ he says.</p><p>Draco leans in and kisses Harry. Their lips are sticky and the park is full of people, laughter and sighs and trickling conversation in their ears.</p><p>„Draco,“ Harry says when the blond pulls away again. It was a short kiss, but it made Harry's knees weak.</p><p>„I won't apologise,“ Draco says, determined.</p><p>Harry bites his lip. He wants to kiss Draco again.</p><p>But he knows he can't.</p><p>„We have to be friends,“ he says.</p><p>Draco turns away and takes a couple deep breaths, before they can keep walking.</p><p> </p><p>„Is it about sex?“</p><p>Draco storms into the shop. The two girls currently inspecting Lavender's pink candy canes stare at him, then start to giggle.</p><p>Harry blushes a furious red.</p><p>„Draco!“</p><p>Draco throws the girls a nasty glare, then walks right up to Harry behind the counter.</p><p>„Do you not want to date me because of sex?“</p><p>Harry hesitates. His face is still hot. „Not only.“</p><p>„But mostly.“</p><p>„Yeah.“</p><p>Draco's hair is almost messy, as if he'd kept running his hands through it. His skin looks a bit saggy, his eyes are rimmed by purple.</p><p>He hasn't slept.</p><p>„Alright,“ the Slytherin says briskly. „Then we won't have sex. But you have to date me.“</p><p>Harry's mouth opens. „Draco -“</p><p>„Please. Please, Harry. I'm going crazy. And you know you want me.“</p><p>Blinking at him, Harry tugs at the hem of his shirt. „You think very highly of yourself.“</p><p>Draco looks unimpressed. „Why wouldn't I?“</p><p>Harry looks to the side. His head is spinning.</p><p>„I -“</p><p>„Harry.“ Draco takes his hand.</p><p>Harry looks into grey eyes. Draco is desperate.</p><p>„Okay,“ he says. „I'll date you.“</p><p> </p><p>They go on dates. Draco is clearly trying to impress Harry.</p><p>He takes him out to fancy restaurants. He buys him ice cream and laughs at him when it melts over Harry's fingers. He licks it off his chin.</p><p>They go to a fair and to bars and get an illegal amount of coffee.</p><p>And they kiss. Quite a lot.</p><p>On Harry's birthday, Harry invites him home.</p><p>„I can't sleep with you,“ he says the moment he closes the door behind him.</p><p>Draco hums and tries to move in to kiss him, but Harry flinches away.</p><p>„I mean it, Draco.“</p><p>Hearing the distress in Harry's voice, Draco softens. He puts his arms around Harry's shoulders and waits until Harry hugs him back.</p><p>„I know, love.“</p><p>Harry hides his face in Draco's shoulder and breathes him in.</p><p> </p><p>It's not easy.</p><p>Deep down, Harry knows he has to tell Draco before things can progress.</p><p>He doesn't think he can. The only person he can talk to about it is Iris, and that's mostly because she's not a person in that sense. Well, she <em>is</em>, obviously, but not to Harry. To Harry, she's his therapist. That's different.</p><p>And even with Iris, it's hard to go into detail.</p><p>Usually, Harry's sentences sound something like this: <em>Well, when he – I would always cry in the car. After. But then Uncle Vernon got mad and so I didn't cry anymore </em>or <em>I still sometimes feel... filthy. Because </em>or even <em>It's not like I can't have – sex, but... there are just situations that – that trigger me, like... And I don't always know. What will trigger me, I mean. That's the problem.</em></p><p>It's difficult.</p><p>But being with Draco isn't, so Harry won't give up.</p><p> </p><p>They're making dinner together, some fancy salad Draco loves to eat when they're eating out. Harry is cutting up an apple. His hands start shaking so hard that he puts the knife aside.</p><p>„I have to tell you something,“ he says.</p><p>Draco, scowling at some nuts he just can't get to cooparate, looks up.</p><p>„Sure.“</p><p>„I don't want you to say anything.“</p><p>„You're acting like I'd always interrupt you. I <em>never </em>interrupt you, it's really -“</p><p>„Draco.“</p><p>„Alright.“</p><p>Harry knows Draco is nervous. But that's nothing compared to the football in Harry's throat.</p><p>„There was someone. One of my uncle's cousins or something. He – did stuff to me. When I was a kid, I mean. That's why... That's why.“</p><p>Draco is looking at him. The nuts are forgotten.</p><p>„Don't say anything,“ Harry reminds him. „I think – I think you need to use a different spell. Like this.“</p><p>He comes over and chops the nuts for Draco.</p><p> </p><p>They sit on the couch together, watching rugby. None of them is interested in the sport, but they like to sit together like that, both lost in their own thoughts. Harry is leaning against Draco's shoulder.</p><p>„You could sleep over,“ Harry says, as casually as he's able to.</p><p>Draco's hand stills for a moment, then it continues to trace circles on Harry's arm.</p><p>„I suppose I could,“ Draco says and that's that.</p><p> </p><p>Harry thought he'd be nervous, maybe even anxious to have Draco in his bed again, but he's not.</p><p>The Slytherin lies next to him, not trying to touch him, but Harry scoots closer until they lie shoulder to shoulder. He speaks to the ceiling.</p><p>„I understand if you don't want to date me anymore.“</p><p>„Harry -“</p><p>„For real. I wouldn't be mad.“</p><p>Draco looks at him. „Would you be sad though?“</p><p>Harry hesitates. He takes a breath. „I'd be heartbroken.“</p><p>The sharp inhale Draco takes tells Harry how much of a revelation that is to the Slytherin. If only he knew what Harry really feels for him.</p><p>Every day, every hour, he's terrified. Terrified Draco will leave.</p><p>Because they all do, eventually. Good things in Harry's life are usually taken away from him.</p><p>„I want to date you. If you promise not to shut me out again.“</p><p>Draco's eyes look silver in the moonlight. „I can give you space when you need it, but never shut me off completely like you did before.“</p><p>Harry nods, rock in his throat. „I won't.“</p><p>Draco smiles. He's soft like this. Not so unbothered.</p><p>„Brilliant.“</p><p>Timidly, Harry puts his head on Draco's chest. Draco's arms close around him.</p><p>„Now sleep, you fool.“</p><p> </p><p>The first time they have sex again, they're both nervous enough to puke.</p><p>Surprisingly, Harry thinks Draco is even more nervous than he is himself.</p><p>„Are you alright?“ he asks at least five times. Harry nods. Says <em>yes </em>and <em>please, Draco</em>.</p><p>Harry holds his breath when Draco enters him. It hurts. It's been a long time.</p><p>„Okay?“ Draco breathes. He doesn't move.</p><p>Harry wants to tell him that he doesn't have to ask so often – Harry's had sex with many guys before. He won't freak out because of this.</p><p>But no one has ever looked at him like that before. No one's ever cared like this.</p><p>„Yeah.“ He wraps his legs around Draco's waist.</p><p>They go slow. Draco keeps kissing him. Their fingers are linked.</p><p>Harry didn't think Draco could be like this, so careful, so unhurried, so... calm.</p><p>But that's strange. One of the things Harry loves most about Draco is his steadiness. He's fluttery and jealous and sometimes cold, but he isn't volatile.</p><p>After, the air in the room feels cool on their sweaty skin. Draco kisses Harry, then goes to the bathroom.</p><p>Harry stares at the ceiling.</p><p>Suddenly, he's terrified. Maybe more terrified than he's ever been before.</p><p>The moment Draco walks back into the room, eyes shining, naked safe for his pants, Harry blurts: „I'm so scared you'll leave me.“</p><p>The beautiful smile that spreads on Draco's face is unexpected. He climbs back into the bed. Crawls over Harry, until they're nose to nose.</p><p>„Say it again.“</p><p>„What?“</p><p>„Please.“</p><p>Harry searches Draco's eyes. „I'm so scared you'll leave me,“ he repeats, quietly.</p><p>Draco traces his eyebrows with his fingertip.</p><p>„I hate that you scared,“ he says. „But I also love it. I thought...“ He cuts himself off. A small blush is rising on his cheek.</p><p>„What?“</p><p>But Draco doesn't answer. He says: „I won't leave you.“</p><p>„You can't know that.“</p><p>„I don't want to ever leave you, then. I'm not planning to.“</p><p>Harry wraps his arms around Draco's neck. Cards his fingers through his hair.</p><p>„You say that now.“</p><p>„I mean it.“</p><p>Harry sighs and Draco kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.</p><p> </p><p>Harry tells Draco he loves him on the first of September. They're at his shop. Harry locks the door, throws a look around to check if everything's in order. Draco leans against the counter, watching Harry.</p><p>Harry walks up to him. Throws his arms around Draco's neck, sways forward. Trusts Draco to catch him.</p><p>The Slytherin does. He nips on Harry's bottom lip. With a wicked grin, he says: „I've heard office sex is supposed to be <em>extraordinary</em>. What do you think about,“ he brings his mouth to Harry's ear. His hands tug on the loops of Harry's belt. „You bent over this desk and me on my knees?“</p><p>Harry smiles and hops on the counter. Draco blinks at him.</p><p>„Is that a no?“</p><p>It has taken Harry a long while to figure out that most of Draco's confidence is fake. Draco likes his body, he likes to put on a show – but he isn't confident at all that Harry wants him. That anyone does, really.</p><p>The second Harry realized that, he loved Draco even more. They weren't that different afterall.</p><p>Draco needed to hear how much Harry needed him, just like Harry needed to hear it from Draco.</p><p>Harry puts one hand on Draco's jaw.</p><p>„I love you,“ he says and then he kisses Draco so he won't have to answer.</p><p>Harry knows that Draco doesn't say things like that. He can tell Harry that he's pretty or gorgeous or sexy. He can even tell him he likes to be with him. The best thing he ever told Harry was, when he came home after an exhausting day at work: „I need some alone time, Merlin help me. People are the worst.“</p><p>Harry prepared to make himself scarce, but Draco had picked him up as if it was nothing and dropped him on the couch, laid down on top of him, buried his face in Harry's neck and closed his eyes.</p><p>Harry, rather surprised, pet his hair and asked: „I thought you wanted alone time?“</p><p>Draco had lifted his head and frowned at him. „Being with you counts as alone time.“</p><p>So, yes, Harry knows Draco doesn't say it. It's fine, he thinks. He knows.</p><p>Draco stares into Harry's eyes.</p><p>„Again?“ he asks.</p><p>Harry laughs. Shakes his head. Brings their lips together and whispers: „I love you, Draco.“</p><p>They end up shagging on the floor, Harry riding Draco until the Slytherin let out a string of curses, loud in a way he never is in bed, bucked up and came so hard, his eyes were rolling back.</p><p>Harry gets up first, wriggling into his jeans, then pulling the jumper over his head. Draco rightens it for him.</p><p>„We need to get rice and wine on the way home,“ he says, thumb brushing over Harry's cheek.</p><p>„Yes. And honey. It's always empty when I want some, because you git never -“</p><p>„I love you too,“ Draco says. He meets Harry's eyes for a moment – Harry is stunned silent – then quickly turns away.</p><p>„Well, let's go.“</p><p>Harry grins widely, slipping through the door Draco holds open for him.</p><p>„And you say you never interrupt me.“ He shakes his head at his boyfriend, feeling like he just caught the Snitch.</p><p>Draco rolls his eyes. „As if you mind.“</p><p>Harry smiles and links their hand. Reaches up and kisses Draco's cheek.</p><p>„I don't mind at all.“</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and Comments always make my day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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